


Purchase From Sorrow

by zendog



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Now complete., Sequel to "Rent Asunder", Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 42,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zendog/pseuds/zendog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evil never left and now it has grown in stength; feeding off anger, pain and misey.  It is ready and it's victims are Merlin, Arthur and all of Camelot.  A battle against the God of the Underworld; will Merlin have the strength to win or will he and all  he loves be brought down by the devil that lurks just outside his chamber window?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Rent Asunder" - probably best if you read that first. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1  
Merlin sat and looked at the small white stone. It was quietly beautiful, no other words for it. Smooth and glowing and so sad it made his heart break everytime he saw it. Engraved on it was a name and five simple words.

“Niamh”

“Love. Healing. Kindness. Bravery. Protection.”

Simple, Merlin thought, but so very complicated and hard. Those words contained so much that made him sad and proud and lonely and loved.

Reaching down he placed a bunch of wild herbs and flowers at the foot of the small earthen mound. His hand remained, touching the grave, remembering how he had held her as life had drained away. Remembering how she had told him some things were worth dying for. “You were right” he said “But are some things worth killing for? I wish I knew.”

“Merlin, it’s time” Arthur’s voice came from lower down the hill, by the tree line. “Say your goodbyes. We have to go before it gets dark.” Merlin remained where he was, not ready to move yet.

 

“Merlin.” This time the voice was very near and Merlin turned to see Arthur standing behind him. “I do understand but it’s not safe, we have to go. We can come again but...” Arthur glanced up at the reddening sky “This part of the forest is not somewhere we want to be at night and we have already stayed too long. My Father will begin to wonder where we are. This was supposed to be a 2 day hunting trip and we are due back.”

“I wish it were different...” the Prince continued “But we have to leave.”

Merlin looked at Arthur and knew he really meant it, that he too wished they could stay and think and remember. But, even with the thawing of his emotions over the last year, Arthur was still a Prince, a Knight of Camelot and incredibly practical. It was not safe to stay in this part of the forest for too long and no amount of hoping or pretending would make it so; therefore feelings were put aside and they had to go. Merlin understood, he really did, but that did not take away his memory of the last three hours by the grave.

XXX

While Merlin had gathered the herbs and flowers Arthur had knelt beside Niamh’s eternal resting place and had spoken quietly to her. He told her of all that had happened in Camelot since her death. Of the mighty deeds that had taken place –the victory over Cornelius Sigan, the defeat of Morgause and the death of the dragon. He also spoke of the loss of Morgana and his determination that she would be found. Never boasting but always rightfully proud of the way Camelot had overcome its enemies and prevailed against often seemingly insurmountable odds. Although he did not realise it Arthur had grown much since the battle with Mawr – he was somewhat more able to speak of his emotions and had even begun to believe that he could be a different King from his Father.

Then it was Merlin’s turn and he too spoke of the events in which he had played such an important role. He spoke of the death of Sigan, the freeing of the dragon, the poisoning of Morgana. He told her of how he knew in his head that he had done what was right, but how his heart still burned with the horror of his actions. Haltingly he told her of Freya “I think you would have liked each other you know. She was like you, brave and kind.” Then he told of the death of his Father and of his fear and guilt that he had been the cause. 

Merlin carried on talking for an hour or more but his were not stories of daring do or victory unexpectedly snatched from defeat. The telling of his tales was full of regret, guilt and contrition. Merlin too had moved on much since the confrontation with Mawr – his powers had grown but so had his actions. He had been forced to kill and cause harm to others and it sat heavily on him.  
XXX  
Coming back to the present Merlin knew they had to leave. It just he had one more thing to say “Niamh, I hope Freya is taking care of you. When you see her, tell her that I miss her.”  
XXX

As the two young men quietly packed up and walked to the horses, a light wind blew a wan fog over the young girl’s grave. The fog hovered in the air as if IT too were conversing with the dead girl, then IT seemed to gather ITself into a more coherent shape and moved off. If anyone had seen, they would have said IT was almost alive, a thing moving with reason and purpose. But no-one saw and after all IT was just a fog, wasn’t IT?  
XXX


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Merlin sat glumly at the table in Gaius’s chambers, idly stirring a bowl of dubious smelling soup and staring at nothing in particular. Around him the old Physician bustled and fussed, muttering bad temperedly under his breath as he did so. Merlin was oblivious to all of this and eventually Gaius had had enough.

“Merlin, for pity’s sake, get a move on. You’re lounging around when we’ve got so much to do. The illness is spreading and I need the help of an active apprentice not some apathetic and lackadaisical good for nothing” Gaius didn’t often get so annoyed with Merlin, he knew the weight the boy carried on his shoulders, but this time he was extremely irritated. Everything had been quiet for months and there did not seem to be any magical threats in the offing. In fact the only issue was the illness currently making quite a number of Camelot’s inhabitants sick. Merlin was supposed to be helping the old physician with his tasks. Yet since he and Arthur had returned from their trip to Niamh’s resting place he had been impossible.

At first Gaius had been sympathetic; he knew what Merlin had gone through in the past year. Gaius had helped Merlin through all the losses he had suffered, but had now reached the end of his tether. “Really,” he thought angrily. “They’ve been back 3 weeks from the trip and I have real problems to deal with. Time enough to think of the dead when there isn’t illness in Camelot.”

Gaius turned to look at Merlin again to tell him to “Pull his finger out” but he abruptly stopped and took a hard look at the boy. How could he not have seen how fragile and gaunt Merlin had got over the last 3 weeks? How pale and introverted? Gaius tried to comfort himself by thinking of how little he had seen of Merlin, what with his medical work and Merlin’s own increased tasks with the Prince. In fact Gaius could not remember the last time that they had sat and eaten and talked. They just never seemed to have the time.   
Sighing, Gaius promised himself that once this bout of sweating sickness in the Lower Town was over he would ensure that they had time to catch up – and he also promised himself that he would make more effort over the food. The boy could do with some meat on his bones. But in the meantime he did need help, so he walked over to Merlin and tapped him (not TOO harshly) on the back of the head. 

But even with the tap Merlin still sat there, seemingly not aware of his surroundings and it took a loud yell of “MERLIN” right in his ear to rouse him.

“What?...Who?...Gaius, there was no need to shout.” The boy spoke in a hurt tone of voice “I was listening to you. You said you needed me to make some sleeping draughts. I’ll do it now.” 

“By the gods Merlin, I asked you to do that half an hour ago. I got fed up with waiting and have done it myself. What is going on in that befuddled brain of yours? It can’t be this illness that is worrying you; it always appears at this time of year. It’s hard work and sadly a few people may die of it but we have always managed to control it and it definitely is not the work of magic or an evil sorcerer trying to bring down Camelot. So what is the matter?” 

Gaius glanced expectantly at Merlin, waiting for an answer as to what was distracting him so much, but was astounded to see that Merlin had not listened to a word and had gone back to stirring the soup and gazing vacantly at a spot half way up the chamber wall.

With an extremely loud and annoyed huff, Gaius picked up his medicine bag and stormed (well, stormed as fast as an old man can) out of the room. Really some days there was just no dealing with the boy.

Much later Merlin seemed to come to himself. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. Peering around him he noticed Gaius’s absence and thought to himself that it was a bit strange. Hadn’t the physician said he needed help with his rounds tonight? All he’d had to do was ask! 

Looking out of the window Merlin suddenly realised quite how late it was. He didn’t understand where the last few hours had gone. He tried to recall what he had been doing, but there was nothing. Nothing except what had been running through his mind constantly. Nothing except the things he had said and done; the mistakes he’d made. 

Merlin eventually stirred and went to lie down in his room. He was exhausted with thinking. Since his visit to Niamh’s grave his remorse and sadness had just grown and grown. He had played each event of the last year over and over again in his head, desperately trying to see if there had been any other way he could have done things. 

He tried to think about what Arthur had said after Niamh’s death. He had spoken of how they should strive to do their best, in remembrance of her. And Merlin had tried, God knows he’d tried. This was especially true in the first few months, straight after they returned to Camelot; when he and Arthur were rebuilding their relationship. But in the last three weeks, it felt as if nothing had changed and that he was still sitting there holding Niamh’s body and all his failings were piling on top of each other. No matter how he tried to defend his actions, each time it came down to the same thing, people had got hurt, broken and killed. And he had been the cause of it, he had failed them. Just like he had failed Niamh.

xxx

 

In the gloom of the night a fog could be seen lingering outside the chamber window, unnaturally still and immobile. IT seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Finally the small candle in the room was extinguished and then a quiet baleful noise came from the deceitful miasma. IT slipped silkily through a gap in the window and entered into the sleeping quarters of the warlock. For three weeks IT had been encroaching nearer and nearer to the boy. It had taken so long and been so hard but now IT’s time for inexorable revenge was so close. IT silently approached the sleeping youth on the bed and, like a shroud, IT covered him completely.

XXX


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
As IT slowly attached to the boy’s body, stopping whenever he stirred, IT thought of the effort it had taken to get this far.

XXX

For a whole year IT had gathered together the strength IT needed from the pathetic little village, newly set up on the edge of the forest. A whole year of collecting and hoarding all the animosity; greed; jealousy; wrath; gluttony; pride; envy and lust that the villagers had lived and breathed. A whole year IT had waited; planned and brooded on vengeance. IT was a God and was not used to waiting for ITs wishes to be fulfilled and the time only added to ITs feelings of rancour and retribution. IT dreamed of the joy in reprisal; the satisfaction in vengefulness. 

IT found something ironic in the fact that it was that girl’s people who were giving IT the strength IT needed. The people whom the warlock and the Prince had spared, the same people whose captivity should have heralded IT’s return. Whose children’s deaths would have given IT full life. As IT thrived on any and all ill feeling within the new village IT grew, developed and became stronger, eating and absorbing and storing the energy. 

But there was never enough for IT to become corporeal and tangible. No, for that IT now needed somewhere bigger, someplace where humans gathered with all their sins, sorrows and degradations. Somewhere like a city, and IT knew which city it would be. It had to be the city that housed those two unbelievers who had destroyed ITs plan a year ago. Camelot.

The time was right, IT had enough power to begin so IT had waited outside the hut of the girl’s family, had waited for the upstart brother to leave. IT knew he would; for every month the boy would leave early and not return until nightfall. IT knew where he went, to the grave of that girl. IT had not followed before as IT had not been ready but now IT was. IT would follow this time and wait for the warlock and the Prince to visit the grave. IT had no doubt they would do so, for they were soft and emotional and all too human. Which gave IT such an advantage, over them all. 

And come they did...and as they left they were followed. IT wafted behind them, insubstantial and ethereal. And with them IT entered the city of Camelot – bringing with IT the seething hate of a cheated God.

XXX

Even now IT writhed with fury when IT thought of how they had beaten Mawr and his followers. The arrogant Prince, the hidden Warlock and the girl. Well, it was nearly time. The potent fury IT had absorbed in the last three weeks in Camelot would be enough to consume the whole city. As IT attached itself to ITs first victim IT thought of how the contagion and hatred would spread; how all within the city limits would fall prey to the emotions unleashed. Petty squabbles would enlarge; small jealousies would become vicious enmity and slaps would become sword thrusts. Soon the city would fall in on itself, its citizens destroying all they once held dear. The negative emotions, the animosity and the violent deaths of so many would enable IT to complete ITs journey to the realm of man and fulfil ITs true calling – dominion over all. 

IT knew IT’s power would become overwhelming and incontestable. IT wanted its revenge so badly that, incorporeal though IT was, IT could almost taste it and it was raw and obscene. And delicious.

And it would all start with one man.

It would all start with the sleeping warlock.

XXX


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Purchase From Sorrow  
The young man paused at the summit of the hill and looked over to the battlements and high walls of the city in the distance. It was imposing and, if truth be told, not a little frightening. But it was where he was headed and it had been a long and tiring journey. Yet now, less than a day’s ride to the city, his horse had developed a limp and needed to rest. He knew that he could not make the rest of the way by nightfall on foot so, despite a sense of unease at the delay, he set up camp for the evening. 

He knew that he should have reached the city walls, should have tried, time was running out but there was no way he could travel through the forest on his own at night. No-one did that, it just wasn’t safe. However later, whilst making his evening meal in the dark, he remonstrated with himself. He’d been an idiot, he should have done it. “She’d have carried on” a little voice inside his head told him. “She’d not have given up and let a little thing like fear of bandits and things that hunt in the dark stop her.”

Sighing he sat under the moonlight and watched the small rabbit he’d caught spit and brown over the fire. Feeling foolish and (difficult though it was to admit) a bit cowardly, he ate his food quickly, covered himself with a thin blanket and slept. His last thought before falling asleep was “Tomorrow I will find him. I will find Merlin.”

XXX

That next morning Arthur was waiting yet again for Merlin to bring his food. And yet again Merlin was on time. This punctuality unnerved Arthur more than he cared to admit. He had got used to the erratic and arbitrary nature of Merlin’s ideas about precisely what constituted “good service”. Normally promptness did not feature high on the list. Lately however this had changed and not a single meal had arrived late, stone cold or even been accidentally dropped. With any other servant Arthur would have congratulated them on their improved performance and perhaps given them an hour or two off (no more, it didn’t do them any favours spoiling them). But for Arthur, the only feeling this “new and improved” Merlin gave him was worry.

At precisely 7am there was a knock on the door. That was another thing that was making Arthur apprehensive. When in the hell did Merlin ever knock? But for the last 3 weeks that was precisely what he’d done. Knocked and waited to be told to enter. 

Well Arthur had had enough of it and, though it felt a bit strange planning to confront a servant about actually working better, this wasn’t just any servant. This was Merlin and they were... well Arthur was still not terribly comfortable articulating exactly what Merlin meant to him. But he knew he wanted things back to the way they had been for the last few months. If that meant he had to (and here Arthur hesitated just a little, but not as much as he would have done a year ago) ...to, you know, to talk to Merlin about what was upsetting him, well then he would. He had changed enough to know it had to be done, but not enough to actually look forward to the prospect.

The knock came again and Arthur told Merlin to enter. He was carrying a tray of food and placed it quietly on the table in front of Arthur. Then he turned, without speaking and went to walk away. This was more than Arthur could stand; no little jibe about his weight, no whine about all the jobs he had to do before he could eat or rest. Just silence and a completed job.

“Merlin, for God’s sake stop being such an idiot. Came and sit down and eat with me “Arthur wondered where on earth that sentence had come from; he certainly hadn’t meant to invite Merlin to join him. But, thinking about it, it might be a good way to get the ball rolling, conversation wise.

Merlin glanced up as if just realising someone had spoken to him and said “Excuse me Sire, did you need anything?”

“Come and eat with me Merlin.”

“I am afraid I can’t Sire; Gaius needs me in the Lower Town to help with the sickness.”

Arthur cursed, angry that he had forgotten about that. Thinking about it though, he suddenly realised that maybe he already had an answer to why Merlin was so, well, un-Merlin like. Overwork and worry. “He must be exhausted, working two jobs and the idiot always gets himself so agitated over things like illnesses and Gaius. Perhaps I should go a bit easier on him until the illness has passed...” 

Satisfied that he had routed out Merlin’s problems, Arthur actually felt quite proud of himself as he watched the gangly youth leave. As he disappeared silently through the door Arthur casually noticed “When did Merlin get that thin?” But the thought only flitted through Arthur’s mind, it did not settle there. Afterall he had his breakfast to eat before it got cold.

XXX

As Merlin left the Prince’s chambers anyone passing by him might have almost seen (out of the corner of their eye) something intangible and tenuous, cruel even, surrounding the youth. But then they would have instantly dismissed it as perhaps a trick of the light or the need to spend slightly less time in the tavern. Invisible things don’t exist and they definitely don’t envelop people in a shadow of loathsome emotions.  
XXX


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
The young man had risen early, even as the first light of the sun had begun to spread across the clear sky. He’d packed up his camp and moved off without having breakfast. He’d not slept well, knowing that he really should have carried on the night before. So much depended upon him finding Merlin quickly. He castigated himself for his reluctance and for his fear in not leaving his horse last night and continuing on foot. His task was going to be difficult but that was no excuse. Emerging from a light slumber in the pre-dawn he had resolved to begin and not to stop until he had done what he intended to do. Finding Merlin was all that was important and he had little time left if the tragedy that was coming was going to be averted.

XXX

Merlin slowly walked to the kitchen, carefully depositing the dishes on the massive oak table and left. No chatting with Rose the cook, no blushing at the flirty behaviour of quite a few of the kitchen maids (not to mention one or two of the kitchen porters as well) and no quick stealing of a tasty morsel of food to take the place of a meal. 

Nothing was as it should have been and the all the servants in the kitchen felt bereft, without actually being able to put their fingers on why. There was just an absence of life and fun this morning. None of them consciously associated this with missing the usual smiling happy-go-lucky nature of the Prince’s lanky manservant; but his despondency certainly had an effect on them all.

Leaving the kitchen Merlin just kept on walking, not really aware of where he was heading or why. He just had to keep moving, almost in a trance. He felt insignificant and disconsolate; somehow weighted down. Without realising it he trudged through the Citadel and into the Lower Town, neither noticing nor responding to all the people who yelled out greetings to him. As he walked the feeling of numbness and unhappiness that he carried with him seemed to impose itself on those he passed. Slowly and methodically, with no knowledge of what he was doing, Merlin left a trail of sullen melancholy wherever he walked.

And this malaise did not cease. Inexorably it wormed its way through every market stall, into every house and crawled deep into every soul. And as it spread it changed, no longer depression, new emotions were emerging. Anger and bitterness. Hatred and resentment. People started to yell at each other for no reason, fights began over the smallest thing. Camelot and all its citizens were being infected, altered and corrupted. 

Just as IT had planned. 

 

XXXX

“Merlin! It’s about time you showed up. Honestly I am fed up to the back teeth with you. You are nothing but a worthless lump and I’ve a good mind to send you back to that too indulgent Mother of yours. She obviously ruined you, spoiled you, letting you think you’re important. Well let me tell you, you are not. You are just another servant and you are not even good at that.” Gaius’s angry and infuriated voice rose from the crowd of people Merlin was rudely pushing through. He looked up and saw the old man a few yards away. 

“Gods” thought Merlin “He’s the last person I want to see now, always nagging like an old woman. Never leaving me alone. Like I haven’t got enough to do with that arrogant arse back in the castle without this old quack giving me more jobs.” 

With that thought Merlin turned and walked away but his legendary clumsiness caught him out again and he fell over a basket beside a market stall. Cursing loudly and clasping his scuffed knee he did not realise that the physician had caught up with him until he felt the swipe of a really hard cuff round the ears. That did it, not only was Gaius hitting him but he was hitting him as if he were a child! No-one got smacked around the ears once they were older than 10. 

“Gaius, how dare you?” Merlin rounded on his guardian, and spoke in a cold, calculating whisper “You know what I can do, you know who I am; yet you treat me with disrespect. I could kill you with a look. I am not just a servant. I am more powerful than even you suspect. I have killed before and will do so again to get what I desire; so don’t trifle with me old man.” All thoughts of depression and guilt had gone, blown away with the birth of these new wonderful feelings of hate and anger. Merlin felt free and alive and so full of power, so wonderful after the weeks of repression and pain. He felt alive; and no wrinkled, dried up obsolete fool could stop him.

“Oh, is that what you think boy” Gaius retorted. “You are all powerful are you? Well, why did Freya die and your Father? Could you not save them and Niamh with your marvellous power? Why are you still nothing but a serving boy, wiping up after that spoilt brat Arthur? And why are you, oh most supreme citizen of Camelot, scared to tell the Prince who and what you really are. It’s because you are a coward.”

Merlin gave a roar so loud it tore through the whole of the lower town and without thinking he lunged at the old man, raised his arm and made to strike him down with magic...

“NO, MERLIN, NO.”

The voice came from behind him and then, from out of nowhere, someone flung themselves between the two men and tackled Merlin to the ground. Merlin fought but could not free himself, anger thronged through every part of his body. He wanted to kill Gaius, then the Prince; but first he wanted to kill this boy who had stopped him. 

Merlin rose from the ground, pushing the boy away as he did so. He raised his arm, feeling the power of his magic; once so pure and kind, now cold and harmful; and he revelled in it. He pointed at the boy, began to say the words to the killing spell. Merlin looked straight at the boy, wanting to see the terror in his eyes as he fell victim to elemental magic. Wanting to see the fear as he realised who he had challenged. Wanting to see the light in his eyes fade as life left him...Merlin looked the boy in the eyes and he truly saw him for the first time and in that moment Merlin shattered; fell apart; collapsed. For looking back at him were the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were HER eyes and at once he was transported back to the clearing and to her dying moments. Instantly he knew the boy could be none other than her brother. 

“Niamh...” he cried...

With that single word he came back to the remembrance of his true self. Memories broke the enchantment he was under but it was not a freeing, wonderful thing. No, returning to himself again Merlin felt the horror of the awful emotions that had nearly overwhelmed him - depression, anger and violence.

“Oh God, I was going to hurt Gaius. “ Merlin moaned. “I wanted to kill…”

As he spoke these broken words he felt himself being pulled up into the air, twisted, turned and hurled around. Then came the strongest sense of depraved magic; such he had only ever felt once before, at the Altar when Arawan had begun to return. He felt something was being dragged from him and it hurt. It was as if an evil presence was being wrenched from every pore in his skin and a thousand fires were burning on his body. But it was nothing compared to the torture of his mind – in those moments all the nightmares and horrors of the past, present and future presented themselves to him in a mass of images. One after the other they appeared, in a seemingly endless stream of death, destruction and despair, flashing through his mind. Staying long enough to hurt him and then (oh, thank God) disappearing, out of his sight and seemingly into the abyss. 

Then it stopped, all had gone and he fell, only having the chance to recognise that he felt light again, as if the World was as it should be, before he crashed unknowing to the ground...

XXX

If an insubstantial form could scream then IT would have done so at that precise moment. IT had been expelled from warlock’s body at the exact second Merlin had realised who the boy was and had come to himself again. 

All ITs planning and that infernal boy had awoken the warlock! He had brought   
Merlin back from the brink. And in saving him he had broken the web of enchantment that had begun to cover Camelot. All the bitterness and hatred that had spread throughout the City dissipated at once. People were left in the middle of arguments, not knowing what had begun them. Fights stopped as the combatants could not remember what they were fighting over. Normality regained a footing in Camelot; though there was a lot of explaining, forgiving and forgetting to do. 

But then IT felt something emerge from the cursed warlock. IT recognised anger and guilt, two of IT’s favourite emotions; and such a lot of them. Wave after wave of negative thoughts and feelings were being expelled from the boy as he was being tossed in the air, the after effects of the enchantment working their way out of his body. 

It was fantastic, never had IT felt such despair and anger. IT consumed them all, sucked them down, ate them up; used them to re-build and re-power. The boy’s expelled memories and feelings were so intensely primitive and ugly; they were exquisite. 

And they were so powerful, gave him such strength. If only IT had realised how strong this miserable boys feelings were, IT would never have bothered with the village – IT would have just come and fed on him instead. In one brief outpouring of the warlocks darkest fears and memories IT had regained everything that the failed possession had taken from IT.

The boy’s body slumped to the ground and for a moment IT was perplexed, IT did not know what to do. Then with a callous rush of pleasure IT realised precisely how to turn this chain of events to IT’’s advantage. This new plan would lead to an even more gratifyingly malicious conclusion. 

IT gathered IT’s strength and swept the warlock’s body up in a whirlwind and they disappeared from view.

ITs first plan had failed but it would not end there. IT had found a way; they would still suffer - the boy and the Prince, the whole of that infernal city. There was always another way to bring suffering.

 

XXX


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I know that Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival aren’t really all at Camelot at this time but I’ve taken some poetic licence to move them around in time/place just because I quite fancy including them in the story. So please forgive me...

Chapter 6

Entering the city that morning the young man was overawed by its size, the number of people and just how busy everyone was. It was so different from his home. He wondered around a little aimlessly. Now he was here he realised he didn’t have any idea how he was going to go about finding Merlin and he just couldn’t blunder around until he stumbled upon him. No, he needed a plan. And the simplest plan was just to ask. 

Looking around he saw two women at a market stall and deciding that there was no time like the present he approached them “Excuse me, do you know where I could find Mer…” But he had to stop as, seemingly out of nowhere, the older woman screamed “You are a cheat and a liar. That was not the right amount of apples. You are a thief.”

In response the younger woman grabbed her by the arms and spat in her face. Then it was no holds barred as the women flew at each other; kicking; scratching and yelling such obscenities that it made him blush. “Well, I’ll leave you, um, ladies, to um, whatever it is, um, you are doing” he muttered and wisely walked away. He had expected better from Camelot. After all it was supposed to be the sophisticated centre of the Kingdom. But, he reflected, I suppose you can’t judge an entire city on the actions of two people.

This benevolent thought had barely entered his mind before it was thrust aside by the sight of three knights, in what seemed to be a full on brawl. Two of them had their swords out and were striking each other anywhere and everywhere, trying to overpower their opponent. The third had obviously just been struck a blow and was half kneeling on the hard ground. As the two combatants got closer to the fallen man he made a grab for the knight nearest to him and with a bellow of “I’ve got the bastard Gwaine, you finish him off.” he pulled the large man to the ground. Both knights then jumped on the bigger one and tried to keep him prostrate on the floor. But they had no chance as he roared loudly and with one great heave threw them both off. 

“Lancelot, grab him.” yelled the one who seemed to be called Gwaine. 

“You grab him you coward” replied the other “It was your ale he spilled afterall”

“Are you calling me chicken-hearted, you self-loving, egotistical buffoon?” retorted Gwaine. “Come on Percival, get him.” And with that it all changed, as Gwaine and the giant knight teamed up and ran straight at the third.

As all three knights hurled themselves into a massive ball of booting and punching the boy decided that everyone in Camelot was mad. He’d heard it was supposed to be a place of peace and serenity but it seemed as if it was just a seething mass of resentment and people with incredibly short tempers. “Perhaps I should rethink my plan of asking someone if they know where Merlin lives” he thought. “I don’t want to get involved in all this.”

Turning the corner of the market place he heard yet more raised voices. Not wanting to witness any more mindless violence and aggression he was about to walk the other way when a he caught a brief glimpse of one of the protagonists. 

It couldn’t be, could it? That cruelly faced, vicious looking youth advancing on the old, but impressively defiant, man…no way could it be him…But he looked again and knew. That was Merlin! 

Before he had planned it the boy ran in front of the youth, shouting “NO, MERLIN, NO” as he jumped on top of him and tried to keep him there. But to no avail, as with a strength that belied his slight form, Merlin threw him off; rose to his full height and stretched out his arm. 

The boy knew that he was going to die; there was no doubt in his heart. The man he had come to help; to protect; was going to be the person who ended his life. One look at the young man standing over him told him that. The expression on Merlin’s face was full of fury and savagery. 

But he would not die a coward, he would confront his murderer and he looked straight at Merlin. For the briefest of moments he saw an image of madness in Merlin’s eyes but then something happened...Merlin’s face changed and all the boy could see was confusion, revulsion and finally horror. He did not understand what had happened but he instantly knew he was safe; that Merlin would not hurt him.

But what he was not prepared for was the look of total devastation that came over Merlin’s face as he spoke one word “Niamh...” 

Then the boy could see Merlin grasp what he had been about to do and his expression was harrowing. But there was no time to react for in a second the impossible had happened...Merlin’s face had collapsed in pain and his body had risen up into the air. Writhing and threshing at first Merlin suddenly stilled and stiffened. As his howl of pain split the air, a burst of power erupted from his body and crashed into the boy and all those around him. All were lost to consciousness. 

But before they fell those closest saw the battered body of Merlin being stolen away in a whirl of dust and hatred...  
XXX


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7   
After the enchantment had left them; a very battered Gwaine, an impressively bruised Lancelot and a seemingly unmarked Percival had walked into the market place just as people were waking. Astonished they had helped some of the older inhabitants to their feet and even aided in the righting of a few stalls when they heard the unmistakable sound of the Court Physicians voice, seemingly demanding answers off a boy who he had cornered against the wall.

“Who are you? Do you know why we were all behaving like that? And most importantly of all what happened to Merlin?” growled Gaius.

Before the boy could respond Gwaine had bounded over to them and had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck “What did you do to my friend you little runt? If you’ve hurt him...”

Turning to Gaius, but still holding the boy by the throat, Gwaine demanded “What’s happened? Is Merlin safe? What does this boy know about it...?

“If you’d just be quiet for a minute Gwaine, I might be able to actually find that out. Now put the boy down before you choke him to death.”

Gwaine glared at his captive, but dropped him soon enough once he’d seen the look on Gaius’s face. Brave knight though he was, even he did not interfere when it came to Gaius and protecting Merlin.

“What is your name boy?” growled Gwaine.

“Berwin, my Lord” the boy replied.

“And what happened to Merlin?” asked an anxious Gaius.

“It took him.” was all the boy said. But it was enough. 

“We need to find Arthur” Gaius said and for once all three of the knights agreed.

XXX  
The people in the market square had woken up fairly soon after Merlin had disappeared and apart from each having a slight headache, they seemed unharmed by their experience. At least they were fine physically. Mentally they were all very confused and upset by what they had seen. Bad enough that there had been the argument and the fight; but to see the Prince’s manservant kidnapped by magic was unbelievable. Most of them knew Merlin or had at least heard tell of his kindness, humour and loyalty. And they were worried about what had happened to him. The majority of them thought he’d been killed, blown up by a sorcerer. The same sorcerer who everyone blamed for the violence that had so recently invaded Camelot. 

But the market stops for no man, wares needed to be sold and families fed so whilst they talked and gossiped they also carried on getting life back to normal. By the afternoon the strangeness felt as if it had happened days ago. Afterall, sad though it was, the Prince could get a new manservant and anyway there was work to do and the illness to battle. To them, Merlin was just one among the many they were likely to loose and there was precious little time to mourn.

But that was the people of the Lower Town – in the Citadel it was completely different. Servant, squires, knights and ladies were very well aware of the loss of Merlin. It was impossible to ignore; mainly due to the behaviour of those knights who called him friend and the Prince who called him, well, to be honest, who tended to call him “idiot”. Though it had been a few hours, the Citadel was still reeling. The Prince was almost frantic but trying to hide it by behind a bad temper and the knights were loudly declaring their hatred of sorcerers and their determination to get Merlin back. It was, frankly, chaos.

To Berwin, who had found himself perched on the stool in the corner of the Gaius’s chambers observing the Crown Prince, it was infuriating. He watched as Arthur paced the room, trying not to seem anxious, but failing pathetically at hiding it. Berwin was starting to get more and more annoyed that no-one would listen to him. “I thought I been brought here to tell them what I saw,” He thought “But they are too busy yelling at each other and about sorcerers, that they’ve not even asked me anything.”

Arthur had been brought up to date with the strange happenings in the Lower Town and was inclined to agree with Gaius that it had been the work of a powerful sorcerer – indeed when was it ever anything else Arthur thought? Sometimes he felt a little nostalgic for the days of disgruntled Lords and avaricious Kings attacking; with actual armies. Things just used to seem so much easier and clearer then. 

But the thing that was concerning all of those gathered there, Gaius; Arthur; Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot, was how come Merlin seemed to be at the centre of the enchantment? Arthur had asked Gaius if he had any ideas but it seemed the physician was just as flummoxed as the rest of them. The idea that the loyal old man might have been hiding something never even occurred to either the Prince or the perturbed knights.

It had reached a point where everybody was talking at once. They were all coming up with ideas; plans and possible explanations – worry making them unable to really think straight. No-one was listening to anyone and Berwin decided it had to stop; that his shyness and sense of propriety would have to be overcome. He gave a small cough.

No-one shut up. 

He tried again, only this time with a slightly louder “Excuse me...”

No-one shut up.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I believe I might be able to help you with some of the details” he managed to stammer; in what actually turned out to be quite a loud voice. Everyone stopped talking/yelling and, as one, they turned and looked at him.

It was the first time Arthur had really paid the boy any attention at all and he was just about to ask him what he knew about the situation when he looked, as Merlin had, into his eyes. And the effect was instant, as it had been with Merlin; he knew who the boy was. One word escaped his lips “Niamh.”

Berwin bowed his head in response and quietly said “My name is Berwin, my Lord and you are right; Niamh was my sister. And I need to tell you our story.”  
XXX

 

A/N  
Berwin - Celtic boys name meaning “blessing”.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
After the horrific events and the defeat of Mawr and Arawan the villagers left their homes and travelled for miles, terrified into silence by what had happened. They did not know where they were going or what would happen to them but they did have one thing to focus on – laying Niamh to rest. Nowhere seemed right and they walked on for 2 days and nights until they found a beautiful, tranquil clearing in the forest that just seemed to speak to them. They decided to lay her there. It was hard for them, putting her in the cold ground and once they had done so none of them had the will to move any further; so they stayed.

About two miles away was a good water source and ground they could clear to plant crops and start again. They decided to stay near her grave so they could watch over her.

It was hard work, not so much the physical side of things though, afterall they were peasants and used to unrelenting labour. No, it was the people themselves, the community, the village. They had done such terrible things, to other people and to each other and they found it difficult to deal with it. Some of them forgave easily; but were then called weak by those who found it impossible to pardon the wrong doing. Some seemed to have got a taste for thievery and bullying and felt it was okay to rob and take what they needed. And some; well some were just broken, not able to do anything for themselves or their loved ones. There were many arguments, fights and families falling apart. It was almost unbearable at first.

Then slowly they began to remember what their continued existence had cost and they began to return to their true nature. Of course people still argued and fought but it was different, it was normal village life, not twisted and malevolent. Things got better, especially with the timely arrival of the aid that Prince Arthur sent. They truly began to live their lives again and to re-build their community.

Berwin decided that he would train to be a healer, to honour Niamh and so he went to the druids to learn their skills. And it would seem that the talent ran in the family because to everyone’s surprise he was good at it. He had changed. Before it all happened he was well known in the village for being lazy, apathetic and spiteful. He would bully other boys and make his sister’s life a misery. But that has all changed with the death of Niamh and the debt he owed her.

Berwin had come to greatly regret who he had been and his conduct to all around him and he had turned his life back to a true path. Perhaps it was just finding something that he was good at that helped him. His parents were slowly coming to terms with the loss of their daughter; he had a job he loved and was finally respected by the other villagers. There was even a girl who he thought might be the one for him. He knew he should have been content.

But he was not. 

It was because of the voices, the voices calling him at night while all around him slept. They were silky and smooth and they made his heart burst. They reached inside him, pulled at his soul and called him to them. He felt their love and their lust, they wanted him so badly and he wanted them as much. But something, some inner instinct was screaming at him each night – “Don’t go, don’t follow” and he knew he should listen. 

But it was so hard, their call was hypnotic, to resist them caused such pain and he could not sleep without them invading his dreams. Night upon endless night he lay there in his hut, shifting and turning under his blanket. He was soon so exhausted that he could not concentrate during the day and people were starting to notice his healing skills were receding.

“He’s reverting to his old ways! That remorse didn’t last long” was what they were saying. 

Berwin knew it couldn’t go on, something had to give or he would lose everything he had worked for. So he gave in, he followed them the next night. He listened to their call and left his hut; not knowing (or in fact caring) if they were calling him to his death or not. He just knew he could resist their beckoning no longer.

Through the forest he stumbled, falling over roots and stones, unsure of his footing in the dark and in his fear. Louder and louder the voices grew, they swelled into a song. It was so beautiful his heart soared with the music and the love it contained.

Bursting through the trees he came to the edge of the stream and then he saw them. Three of the most hypnotically exquisite women he had ever seen were waiting for him at the water’s edge, calling and beckoning, wanting him and him alone. He could not stop himself; he had to come as they demanded. Berwin rushed forward but in his haste he did not see the root in front of him and he fell forward with such force that he smashed his head on a large stone and was stunned.

It was a few moments before he came to himself and in that time something had changed. There was no longer a fantastical song reaching his ears; no it was now somehow discordant, unmusical. And then it became a screech and a scream, a sound that rang with the terrors of death and despair. He raised his head and what he saw made him blanch and cry out in horror. The once angelic women were now grotesque, with unkempt hair and blackened rotten teeth. Their beautiful arms were wizened and withered and joined to their twisted torsos with leathery wings. The previously healthy, ruddy glow of their faces had given way to the appearance of fast approaching death and the grimaces on their pale corpse-like features were abhorrent.

And Berwin’s heart quailed; for he knew who they were and what they foreshadowed. And he was afraid. For they were Cyhyraeth – cursed with the foretelling of death. Sisters in death, they called a name three times and that person was destined to die at the third naming. There was no escape once your name had been called for the final time. They were harbingers and gatherers for other spirits or gods. Berwin sat transfixed, waiting to hear his name; expecting to hear judgment for his past misdeeds.

The Cyhyraeth stopped their doleful wailing, joined hands and looked Berwin straight in the face. With one voice; a voice creaking with age, terrible knowledge and vicious glee then intoned one word...

“MERLIN”.

Berwin gasped. They had not come for him; they had spoken the name of the youth who had helped Niamh, who had been part of the saving of the village. Berwin did not understand.

“Boy” they spoke again and it repulsed him to hear their snake like utterances but he had to listen, had to understand. 

“Boy, we follow the plans and orders of beings higher than us. But once in a generation, as a reward for our work, we allowed take a soul for ourselves. This privilege and bounty is carefully guarded but the soul we take is always special to us and to the world. It gives us our strength and our pleasures. Now is the time of our gathering and, oh, we have waited for this one for many centuries and we will not be denied.

“Boy, you have been chosen. We have to tell of his death, it is forbidden for us not to do so. But if we chose to and are willing to pay the cost, we can call his name to another human soul and leave to them the passing on of the message to the walking corpse. So we chose you. We chose a boy who is young and untested. You do not have the courage to do what is needed to save him. You do not know how long he has, or where he is. We will return to you again and speak his name when it is time. A name is called, a soul must be collected. And we want his.”

XXX

Berwin stared around him at his watchful audience; they had not spoken a word since his story began. The Prince’s face was pale and still, as if he could not; would not accept the truth of what he had heard there today.

“So, I guess that’s it really.” Berwin continued “I came to warn Merlin. But it was a long journey and I fear I have arrived too late. This magic we have seen today must be connected to the Cyhyraeth’s warnings. It must be the beginning of the fate they prophesied for Merlin. My family and my village owe a debt to the Prince and to Merlin. I should not have delayed in the forest last night, I should have braved the dangers and tried to get here soon for now I grieve I have come too late.” 

“It’s not too late” a voice came from the corner of the room “We will go into the forest and we will find Merlin. We – I - will not allow this to come to pass. Pack and we leave within the hour.”

All turned to the Prince, for it was he who had spoken. He had pulled himself up to his full height and his face was set with determination. Everyone was left in no doubt that he meant what he said. Arthur was going to fight the very Fate’s themselves, battle them for the life of Merlin.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> The Cyhyraeth, in Welsh mythology, were ghostly spirits that foretold a person’s death. They are associated with water and are said to sing or speak the person’s name three times before that unfortunate soul died. I have taken a few liberties with the legend by adding a little bit of the Sirens to their characters and giving them the power to kill.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
It was dark; of that Merlin was sure but beyond this piece of information he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he had got there. He moved his head (a decision he instantly regretted and vowed not to repeat until the 100 cart horses in his head had stopped rampaging) and tried to make out his surroundings. A cold, dank feeling pervaded the air and he could feel a hard, damp solid wall behind him. So he was in a cave then. Merlin sighed. Nothing good ever happened to him in caves.

Pushing himself up into a seated position he tried to work out what had happened in the preceding few hours that had ended up with him being here – wherever here actually was. He felt over his body carefully, but apart from feeling that he had tumbled down a large flight of stairs (a feeling he was unfortunately all too familiar with) he was unhurt. Okay, so he was sore and stiff and very, very cold; but nothing broken or too badly damaged. Just the mother of all headaches and no memories of the past day.

Slowly feeling all around he tried to map out the contours of the cave, looking for a way out. He hoped that the pitch darkness only meant that it was night and that he would soon find the mouth of the cave. But when he did find it he was bitterly disappointed; it had been blocked by a large rockfall. And judging by the amount of moss that had grown on the stones, it had been blocked for a long time. That decided it for him. Magic had transported him here. But now he knew he was alone he also knew that it was safe to use magic to get himself out; there was no-one to see.

Merlin conjured a small light... and all hell broke loose and joined him in the cave.

There erupted such a cacophony of noise, colours and smells. Shrieks and cries ricocheted off the cave walls and redoubled their sounds of horror. Lightning streaks, blood red and infectious yellow flashed across the air, hitting and burning everything in their path. And the smells, Gods, the smells. Putrid, decaying and fetid; the cave now smelled like a charnel house. Evil had arrived, there could be no doubt.

Merlin flung himself into the darkest corner he could find and could only watch in disbelief and terror as all around him perdition rose. Curling in on himself he watched with fear as a small figure seemed to appear from out of the pandemonium. He knew instantly who, or rather, what it was, the shade of Niamh. Her arms were reaching to him, eyes imploring him to save her and then he saw her gasp in pain and slump to the floor. She was followed by the figure of a dark haired druid girl; then a scowling Sorcerer; the countless innocents burnt up by dragon fire; a poisoned friend and finally a tall, strong man with deep, hurt eyes. All walked towards him, arms reaching and grabbing and expressions of love turning quickly to fear and despair. And all fell in pain and moved no more – their last look directed at him - the one who had failed to protect them or the one who had killed them. Either way, they all died once more there in the cave and they all died blaming him. 

With dreadful understanding dawning; Merlin remembered all that had happened and all that had come before. He lowered his gaze, unable to bear the sights of his greatest mistakes and failures as they appeared before him. Eyes closed against the horrors, he could not shut out the feelings. He knew them all again; and felt all the crippling emotions, now vastly magnified by the corrupt environs of his subterranean prison.

And as he suffered his pain was feverously devoured. It was being sucked up into a newly forming maw. A great slurping noise, grotesque and nauseating filled the cave and Merlin was unable to resist looking up. And even from the depths of his despair he fell further into torment. For there, before his sunken eyes, he saw an image that had been etched on his brain since the day of Mawr’s sacrifice. A large, insubstantial nebulous haze was forming, shaping and taking on the semblance of a man. Merlin had only ever felt this feeling of deep evil once before and, with a broken heart, he knew it was Arawan returning to Earth and that he was powerless to stop him.

XXX

IT had been waiting for what felt like forever for the warlock to awake; IT’s impatience only matched by IT’s exhilaration. When the boy stirred IT could hardly contain ITself; barely able to remain hidden and formless. Magic was needed, a spark to set off the chain reaction that would recall all the delicious, intense passions from within the boy. 

And then it had happened, a simple spell but one that cascaded the youth’s memories and brought forth such rewards. A feast for a creature such as him – yes, HIM. For now he was no longer a formless wafting thing; but was growing and solidifying. He was becoming flesh, he could feel bones and sinews and blood forming. In his delight he sucked up more of the lovely despair, such a gluttonous delight. So powerful, so enriching and so bitter. 

Sight, taste, smell, touch and hearing were amplified and intensified. It was as if he had the senses of a thousand living beings flowing in the blood that now pulsated around his body. He reached up with his arms and felt the glorious movement of a fully fledged God. He was magnificent. He was invincible. He was omnipotent. No-one and nothing could prevent his inevitable victory over the crumbling civilisation of mankind.

A small noise from the floor of the cave brought him back to the present – future domination could wait a while; revenge was what he desired first. He looked down onto the feeble human body of the warlock, smiled his most beguiling smile, raised his hand nonchalantly and began.

XXX

Merlin was dumbstruck, before him stood Arawan; a figure over 8 feet tall, muscular and almost human in shape but with the shadow of a beast within him. Immense power and evil radiated from his person and Merlin was afraid. This was something beyond his wildest nightmares and he struggled to move away from his sight. But in doing so he made a noise and seemed to alert the God to his presence and Arawan turned towards him. Big, big mistake thought Merlin as he watched the too wide mouth produce a repugnant smile and the eyes glint with excited triumph. Arawan raised his arm slowly and with seemingly no real intent or purpose but that was just an illusion. For he meant to harm and he achieved his aim very happily.

“You are a killer and a traitor to your kind.” The God of revenge smiles as he spoke in a cold clear voice. “Think of them now boy, all mouldering in their graves or burnt and blown to the four winds because of you. Everyone you help suffers or dies Warlock. You are cursed and this curse will pass on to your precious Prince Arthur. When he comes for you, I will be your shadow. When he saves you, I will be there. When he finds you, it will mean the end of Camelot and all that you hold dear. For I am your penance and your fate and I will be Arthurs’s doom. Until then let me entertain you, I would hate for you to get bored waiting for eternity to come and swallow you whole.” Arawan ended speaking and pointed his raised arm at Merlin and whispered one cold word “Dristwch.”

Merlin’s mind seemed to explode, it was like no other pain he’d ever felt. It was not physical but mental. His soul was being ripped apart; the darkest recesses were being raped and plundered. There was nowhere for him to hide and no-one to comfort him in the darkness. Clasping his head he curled up around himself and gave out a cry that seemed to break the heart of the universe itself. All the grief in the world was there and Arawan revelled in it. And Merlin was swallowed by it. 

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Dristwch – Sorrow (Welsh)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It had taken less than 40 minutes and they were all gathered in the courtyard; horses saddled and provisions packed. None of them wanted to delay, finding Merlin quickly was their only mission.

Of course there was no way that Arthur could tell the real truth about the mission to his Father. Uther had very mixed feelings about the clumsy youth Merlin. On the one hand he had saved Arthur’s life at least twice but he was just a servant and an incredibly annoying and seemingly dull witted one at that. Uther did not really understand why Arthur put up with him but was willing to let it pass. However there was no way on earth that he would countenance a rescue mission for such an insignificant menial and Arthur knew it.

Knew it; but did not agree with it; Arthur had really begun to believe that no citizen of Camelot (regardless of how humble and low born) should be left without the protection and shelter of their Monarchy. All who were loyal to the Crown deserved safekeeping and he felt it was his and his Knights duty to provide it. This was something else where he was different from his Father. Uther always put the abstract idea of Camelot above the needs of the individual people who actually made up Camelot. Arthur could feel himself moving further away from his Father’s ideals and forming his own. And though he did not care to admit it, much of this was due to Merlin. 

For this reason alone he would have gone after his servant but it was more than that. The horrors they had experienced last year had bound them together in a friendship that would prevail through all things. Neither of them spoke of it or even alluded to it often, but Arthur knew how he felt and also that Merlin felt the same. There was nothing they would not risk for each other, nothing they would not do to ensure the other’s safety. For Arthur, at the current time, this meant going on a dangerous mission and also doing something even more difficult – lying to his Father and his King. An action he did not take lightly, but one he knew was necessary.

“So Princess, what did you tell the King?” asked Gwaine as he saw Arthur approach the gathered knights.

“That we are going after the Sorcerer who enchanted the Lower Town. It’s not really a lie I suppose.” Arthur replied, ignoring the snarky name calling just this once. “If it is the Cyhyraeth they are magical creatures and when we find Merlin chances are we will find them.”

“If we find him.” mumbled Sir Leon, ever the realist. He knew they had nowhere to start their search and also accepted the high chance that, even if they did find the youth, it would be too late.

Arthur heard Leon’s comment but chose to ignore the words spoken by his most loyal knight. He knew the reality of the situation; Merlin was gone and they did not know where. But he had decided to disregard this fact; and for once Arthur’s underlying arrogance and belief in himself was actually working in Merlin’s favour. Arthur simply would not believe that he and his fully trained knights could not, and indeed would not, find Merlin. He just refused to accept the possibility. They would look and they would find him. 

Arthur’s ability to scorn reality only went so far though and when he allowed himself to think about what could be happening to Merlin he felt himself in danger of panicking. So he simply did not allow himself to think of it.

“I’ll be no use as a rescue party” he thought “if I get caught up in worrying and thinking of things I can’t do anything about.” But every now and again his mind betrayed him and let a memory of the terrors they had gone through last year back into his thought. Images of Merlin, tortured and broken threatened to break through and shatter Arthur’s belief that all would be well. Up until that day a year ago he had always believed that Merlin was lucky, always escaping unharmed. But no more – he knew now he could be hurt...”Stop it” he told himself “We will find him and he will be ok.”

With that Arthur turned to the men gathered in the courtyard and gave the order to mount up. Gwaine, Percival, Leon and Lancelot did so in a flurry of red cloaks and a clatter of weaponry and chainmail. Glancing down from the saddle Arthur saw Gaius walking towards him, worry making the lines on his face seem deeper and more pronounced. Arthur knew what he felt about Merlin and tried to reassure the old man.

“You know I will do everything in my power to bring him home don’t you Gaius?”

“Yes, Arthur I do. But you must promise to take care, I know Merlin would never forgive himself if you came to harm whilst looking for him. Take care, for him and for me, Arthur. Make sure you come back. Both of you.” With that Gaius tapped him on the knee in a form of farewell, smiled sadly and turned back towards the main door. 

For a moment Arthur was unable to move. He thought of his Father’s perfunctory leave-taking not ten minutes ago; how Uther had just dismissed him with the words “Do your job and find that sorcerer Arthur and be quick about it. You have lots of other duties you know.” Then he thought of Gaius’s farewell. For the first time Arthur really understood that Gaius cared for him as well as for Merlin and that some of his fears were for him. And that he cared, not just for Prince Arthur as a symbol of Camelot, but for Arthur the man. 

It seemed that with the changes wrought on him by the events of the past and the influence of Merlin, Arthur had gained more than a new outlook. He had also gained the love and affection of the people near to him. He had always had the respect and fear due him as a Royal Prince but now he had their hearts and this, more than anything, would make him a better King.

“Arthur, we need to go, before we lose the light” Sir Leon brought Arthur out of his reverie and back to the matter in hand. With a nod Arthur turned his horse and four knights and a Prince rode out to save a servant.

XXX


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was the cold that woke him in the end, its penetrating fingers creeping into his unconscious mind and telling him to move or he would die there, alone and unmourned. Slowly he became aware of the hard ground beneath him and the wet morning dew covering him and freezing him to the very core. He was on a hill, surrounded by dozens of caves and small stunted trees. Clutching himself tightly he dragged his shivering body over to one of the trees and leant against it, his back pressed up against its rough bark. His arm hurt and looking at it he could see a long thin cut on his forearm; not deep or in any way serious, but judging by the stains on his sleeve it had bleed quite copiously. Thinking to cover it with his neckerchief Merlin was surprised to find it missing and had to make do with ripping some material from his tattered shirt. It was only once he had applied the very makeshift (and frankly quite dirty) bandage that Merlin began to really take stock of his situation. The last thing he could remember was the cave (Gods, he hated bloody caves) and the noise, the smell and...

With a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold Merlin remembered Arawan and the images that had played in his head. But there was more. Merlin remembered pain and suffering like he had never experienced before and there was something behind it, something hidden. It was vital he caught hold of it; he knew it was important...but the feeling or memory fluttered away into the darkest recesses of his mind and would not be captured. Merlin could feel it there but could not touch it. It almost as if someone was taunting him. Telling him there was some idea or piece of knowledge he once had but that it was lost to him now. If only he could...but no. He was too tired, sore and cold to find it. 

Groaning Merlin tried to stand up but it was no good. His mind and body had been through so much in the last few days they both seemed to have thrown in the towel. There was no way he could move until he had rested and warmed up. With a flash of his eyes Merlin began a fire and inched closer to it. He knew it was a risk; that Arawan might see it and find out he had escaped but he needed...

Merlin’s train of thought suddenly stopped. Escaped? How the hell had he actually got away? Searching his mind again, Merlin once more encountered a massive gap in his memory. He had no idea how he had got out of the cave and how he had evaded Arawan. Perhaps his magic had come to his rescue; once before, when he had been threatened, it had raised itself above his conscious thought and acted in his protection. Maybe that’s what happened; he’d have to ask Gaius when he got home to Camelot. 

Home to Camelot. That thought should have given comfort to his heart but instead it only brought a sense of foreboding – there was something badly wrong with the idea of him going home but he could not see what it was. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes Merlin knew that there was no way he could even begin to understand what was going on until he’d slept. Even the fear of Arawan could not keep his eyes open any longer and at last his abused mind shut down and his shattered body followed suit. For the first time in days he slept. Not peacefully, not safely, but at least deeply.

XXX

In the light of a small blue flamed fire in the cave Arawan waited, waited for Arthur to find Merlin and for the chance to fulfil his vengeance. 

He smiled as he watched Merlin, whose image he had conjured in the dancing flames. Arawan saw him wake, rest against the tree and light his own small fire. Arawan could see as confusion and concern passed across the warlocks face. How delightful it would have been to be there to eat these new emotions, he thought. He would have enjoyed a little snack before the main course - the annihilation and carnage of Arthur and the boy. Still he’d known he’d be forgoing some delicious titbits when he had taken the unconscious youth out of the sealed cave and deposited him half way up the hillside. But it would be worth it; for now Arthur would find him. 

Arawan laughed as he thought of the false trail he had laid for the Prince and his knights. They would discover that finding Merlin was not as difficult as they had probably imagined. Broken branches, a neckerchief and drops of carefully placed blood would lead the band of rescuers straight to Merlin and, by extension, straight to him. Then the Prince would be under his command and Camelot would be his. 

Arawan had thought merely to kill the two men but as his strength grew he realised a better opportunity had presented itself. If he could control Arthur, and therefore Camelot, he would have knights, armies and fortune at his disposal. All of which would ease his journey to domination over the Realm of men. Those who could not be persuaded would be bribed and those who could not be bribed would be killed. With this plan Arawan could see no downsides. He wanted acolytes and slaves but he also loved to kill. This would let him achieve all three. Of course he would have to kill the King first but (and here he actually licked his lips) just imagine the taste of Arthur’s guilt and trauma…Arawan almost got light headed even thinking of it. 

But first he had to make certain of the warlock. The weak fool would not remember the promise Arawan had made to be there when Arthur found him; of that Arawan was certain. The pain he’d inflicted on the youth would have wiped all that from his memory, but even so the boy was not broken enough yet. Arawan needed him to be fragile and vulnerable when he was found. This would weaken the Prince, seeing his friend damaged, and allow Arawan easier entrance into his mind and soul. 

As he watched Merlin in the fire, Arawan saw a small movement a few hundred yards away and smiled to himself. Revenge was so gratifying. Seeing who was approaching he now knew precisely how to break the warlock and it would be so delectable. Merlin’s pain hadn’t even begun yet.  
XXX


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
Berwin watched as the knights rode out of the citadel’s gates. He had begged to go with them but Arthur had refused – he’d said it was because the knights were used to working together and Berwin would get in the way. But Berwin could read the truth in the Prince’s face; Arthur was terrified that the youth would get hurt and that he would be responsible for the death of Niamh’s brother. Berwin understood Arthur’s reluctance but would not abide by the decision. 

As soon as the knights were out of sight he mounted his horse and followed them out of the gate. If they were going to find Merlin then he was going to. He knew the Cyhyraeth had chosen him because they believed he was not up to the task. They thought he would fail, that he would not get to Merlin in time and warn him of the coming curse. Berwin knew that he could pretend to have completed the job. By telling Arthur and the knights he could claim to have done his part – to have passed on the responsibility. But it was not enough. He needed to prove that he was capable, that he was worthy of being his sister’s brother. Not to the Prince, not to the Cyhyraeth, not even to Merlin but to himself. And so he followed.

XXX

Gwaine took a long drink from his canteen, smacked his lips and replaced it in his saddle bag. He did not notice the angry glare Arthur gave him and instead carried on looking down at the ground, searching for the trail.

They had been combing the forest for hours and had found nothing. There appeared to be no trace of the kidnaper or Merlin. Although they tried not to show it, the knights were beginning to think they would never find them.

“I’m sure we’ve searched this part of the forest before” muttered Percival “I recognise that tree.”

“How on earth can you recognise a tree?” shouted Gwaine “They are all green and leafy! We need to carry on, you are just trying to find an excuse to stop and rest. Well I’m not stopping until we find Merlin.”

“Shut up Gwaine” answered an angry Percival “You’re not the only one who wants to find him safe, so just get on with looking for the tracks.”

Gwaine made to say something and then thought better of it; afterall if they were fighting amongst themselves then it would make it harder to search. Reaching for his canteen again he gulped down another large mouthful. This time it was impossible for him to miss Arthur’s expression; it was one of fury.

“What?” Gwaine demanded.

“Perhaps we’d have found the trail by now if you weren’t so intent on drinking all the wine in the Kingdom” yelled Arthur “I’ve seen you, that’s nearly a whole canteen you’ve drunk. It’s a wonder you don’t fall off your horse. Merlin can’t mean that much to you if you can’t even manage to look for him without a drink inside you.”

Gwaine wheeled his horse full circle and rounded on the Prince; his hand firmly holding onto his sword “Don’t you dare to presume to know me Princess. I am Merlin’s friend and it is for his sake that I follow you. I will search for him until I find him or I die. If you had looked out for him more we wouldn’t be in this mess. You must have seen how he was over the last few weeks, must have suspected something was not right. But no, you just kept on working him and abusing him like you always do. And as for drinking; see for yourself.” With those words he threw his canteen straight at Arthur and rode off without a backward glance. Arthur smelt the liquid, it was only water. Once again, he realised, he had misjudged someone. He should have known better. Merlin had a way of getting to people, everyone seemed to like and respect him and Arthur needed to remember that. It wasn’t just him who was worried, all the knights were. Arthur knew that he did not have the monopoly on concern for the lanky clumsy, idiot, but somehow it felt like he should have. After all they had been through together; Arthur sometimes felt that he owed his allegiance to Merlin and not the other way around. 

Shaking his head, trying to clear it of thoughts that might cloud his mind, Arthur spurred his horse after Gwaine. There’d be time to apologise later, once they’d found Merlin. Arthur smiled at that thought – the Prince apologising. It was like something Merlin would have said to him, that he should say sorry to Gwaine. “Gods” Arthur thought “Merlin can definitely bring out the girl in you.”

Relieved the incident seemed to have blown over the knights returned to their task, desperately pouring over the ground for some sign of where the manservant might have been taken.

Suddenly a shout came from about 100 yards ahead – it was Lancelot. His sharp eyes (eyes that had seen what no-one else had ever noticed – Merlin’s magic) had spotted something red hanging off a low branch. Bending down in his saddle he pulled it off the bush and handed it to Arthur who had rushed to his side.

“It’s Merlin’s neckerchief, I am sure of it.” Lancelot said quietly “But look closely at it Arthur, it’s covered in...”

“Blood” finished Arthur, his heart sinking at the sight. “Perhaps he just scratched himself when he lost it. We all know how awkward Merlin can be, especially when he’s in the woods.” But looking around at the other four men Arthur knew he was clutching at straws. There was too much blood for a simple scratch. Merlin was hurt, how badly they would not know until they found him. Arthur and Gwaine exchanged a look that said their argument would wait, Merlin was the priority.

Spreading out it was not long before Leon picked up some faint tracks and with something akin to hope flooding through them the men hastened further into the forest. They were on Merlin’s trail and, even if they had to face an evil magical being at the end of it, they knew they were getting closer and closer to finding and rescuing him.

If only that had been true and they had been heading towards a fight, a rescue and a happy re-union. But fate and Arawan had different plans for them. Theirs was a false path, leading to violence and misery. Misery made worse by this false burgeoning belief that all would be well.

XXX 

Three hours later and with night drawing in they still had some hope. They had been following the faint tracks and the occasional (but very disturbing) drop of blood and they all sensed they were getting close. Merlin had to be near; they could not stand the thought of him being lost and alone much longer. God knows what condition he was in and what was being done to him. 

In the distance Gwaine noticed that the forest thinned out and the land was becoming more mountainous. He also noticed caves, lots and lots of caves. His first instinct was excitement; he just knew that Merlin was being held in one of those caves. He’d bet his whole bar tab on it – and trust him, it was a big tab. But this joy was swiftly followed by a feeling of hopelessness as he saw just how many caves there were dotted all around the mountainside. How on earth would they manage to search all these without alerting anyone, or perhaps anything, that was holding Melin?

Beckoning to the others Gwaine pointed out the caves and could see by the expressions on their faces that they had the exact two same reactions as he had had. Excitement and then disappointment. 

“What shall we do Arthur?” It was Percival; a look of concern on his face. He had not known Merlin as long as the others but he was fiercely loyal and determined. And the prospect of Merlin being trapped in one of those dark inhospitable caves was very hard for him to bear.

Arthur just stared, for once unable to come up with a plan. He couldn’t even go with the good old stand-by plan of storming the enemy and taking it from there. There were simply too many places where they could be and chances were that Merlin would be dead or spirited away before they found the right one.

But before he could even attempt to stammer out a reply a sound changed everything. It was a sound they had all been longing to hear – it was Merlin’s voice. But Gods, they had never thought to hear it like this. It was a scream of such pain and terror that it nearly unmanned them and made them flee. It seemed barely human in its anguish, but it was unmistakeably Merlin. And it was coming from half way up the hillside.

With a look at each other and without a word spoken they, as one man, broke into a run. Swords aloft and anger blazing in their hearts they charged through the forest and towards their friend. No thoughts in their minds except to stop the screaming and to protect Merlin from the anguish he was facing.

XXX


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Berwin was beyond frustrated. He’d been following the knights as they searched but they’d not found Merlin yet. He knew time was running out for the manservant. Even if whoever had taken Merlin had not killed him, the Cyhyraeth would return soon and pronounce his name for the second time. When this happened there would be very little chance of anyone finding a way to break the curse. 

Suddenly Berwin heard raised voices and he moved closer to the search party to try and work out what had happened – had they found something? But no, it was just the stupid knights and their equally dense Prince arguing over something. Did they not realise that every moment was precious? Furious, he was about to ride forward and castigate them all (forgetting for a moment that he had been forbidden to join them on the search) when he saw Gwaine move away and the unpleasant exchange seemed to stop. Quite relieved that he had not had to reveal himself Berwin settled down in the saddle to wait for them to move off. And he didn’t have long to wait as he heard Lancelot’s shout that he’d found something...”At last” thought the youth, “we might actually be getting somewhere.”

XXX

When they came near to the hillside and all its caves, Berwin sped up and did not stop and try to work out where Merlin was. He dismounted and left his horse at the foot of the hill. There was only one of him and he guessed that he would be able to sneak up the hill without alerting the sorcerer and that he might be able to locate Merlin for the knights – who could then attack and rescue him. Seemed simple really...but he hadn’t counted on Arawan being there. He hadn’t thought of how he would be used to destroy the man he’d set out to help.

XXX  
Arawan had left the cave and was now standing on a rocky outcrop fifty feet above where Merlin was sitting, leaning on the tree. He had been there but a few moments when he caught sight of the young healer climbing up the hill, looking all around him. “Perfect” he thought and, as he luxuriated in the new strength pulsating through his body (it felt good to have so much of his power back), he chanted an ancient spell and laughed.  
“Hounds o uffern yn ymddangos”   
He felt the ground beneath him shake and from his outstretched hands a black smoke poured out into the darkening air. Twisting and turning it formed itself into three hideous shapes. Snarling, snapping and slavering, the three newly formed Hell Hounds turned once to look at their master and then sped down the hill to do his bidding. They had been promised sustenance and they were starving...starving for the taste of human blood and flesh.

XXX

Half asleep Merlin thought he heard a scrabbling just below him and before he had time to react Niamh’s brother came bundling into view. Merlin’s heart sank; he did not understand why he was here. The last time he’d seen him was in the market place and the one thing Merlin was sure of right now was that he did not want the boy here. He had no idea what to say to him and deep within felt that he, Merlin, was somehow very dangerous to other people at present. Again that memory, which had been dancing just out of sight in his subconscious, crossed agonisingly close to the surface of his mind. Why was he a danger? Who to? But again it was no good. When he tried to recall, all he felt was pain and his mind simply refused to go there.

But he didn’t have time to think of it now as the boy caught sight of him, let out a yell of joy and headed straight to him. Merlin got to his feet shakily and waited as Niamh’s brother got closer. The boy was yelling something; Merlin could not catch it all...

“Cyhyr...your name...once...escape fate...”

Then it happened. From nowhere a loud, menacing and hostile growling, followed by the thunder of twelve enormous clawed feet and all became a blur of bodies, blood and screaming. The boy was knocked off his feet and the Hell Hounds were tearing at his flesh, ripping and slashing his skin to get at the meat below.

With a roar Merlin ran towards the awful sight and flung his magic at the Hell Hounds, all his power directed at them. They exploded into the air, black tendrils of smoke erupting, dissipating...but then reforming back into the massive beasts and attacking again; but this time ignoring the unmoving boy on the ground and heading straight towards Merlin.

They were magical, Merlin knew that now but he did not stop. He threw every spell and enchantment he could think of at the hounds. All had the same effect, they dissolved and then reformed; each time angrier and more vicious. There were just too many of them and eventually one got through to him and it was horrific. He felt the barbarous fangs sink into his side, puncturing his skin and penetrating deep into his flesh. The pain was all consuming, harrowing, but he could not give up, he had to protect the boy. 

One of the Hell Hounds had decided that the moving target was just too much trouble and was making its way back to the immobile boy, saliva dripping blood red from its demonic jaws. Merlin knew he did not have the strength to fight them and protect the boy, so with a grimace that did not hide his pain, he stopped sending his magic towards the two Hounds who were skilfully circling him and instead, arms outstretched, he formed a protective barrier over the boy. 

A silver shield flowed over the boy, covering and protecting him. He was safe for now but for how long? Merlin could feel the blood dripping down his side and the smell incensed the Hounds even more. He knew that once he fell; from blood loss or under an attack from the hounds; then the protection for the boy would fall as well and he would die. Merlin knew that very soon he would fail the boy as he’d failed his sister.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation “Hounds o uffern yn ymddangos” – Hounds of Hell appear. (Welsh)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
“It’s time” thought Arawan and he stepped out of the growing shadows and approached the bloody scene. He could see the boy lying as if dead on the floor and the warlock, arm raised in selfless protection, but shaking and bleeding, barely able to continue. He was ripe for destruction Arawan thought, and he is mine.

“Rhoi'r gorau y lladd” Arawan intoned as he walked out into full view. And in an instant the Hounds stopped advancing on the barely upright Merlin. They just stood there, growling and glaring at him.  
“Did you really believe you had escaped me Warlock?” Arawan nearly laughed when he saw the look of disbelief and horror on Merlin’s face “You cannot break loose from my vengeance. And the boy will pay the price for your defiance.”

With a yell Merlin lunged towards the dogs, trying to stop them. But then Arawan waved his hand and the dogs attacked again. Merlin could have held them off with magic but all his concern was focused on the boy and he did not have enough strength left within him to defend himself and the boy. He grabbed a large branch of a nearby tree to try and beat them with, but this did not deter them. In fact it seemed to encourage them; they enjoyed a prey that moved. One feinted to the left and with Merlin’s attention diverted the other sank its defiled and filthy fangs into his arm. Merlin gasped and the branch dropped from his now lifeless hand. Beaten he fell to the ground and the dogs jumped onto his prone body, crushing him and pinning him to the earth. 

The shield around Niamh’s brother flickered and then suddenly lost its strength and disappeared. The protective spell was broken. Merlin was too weak from loss of blood and his magic, unbidden, had returned to him, in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. This was not Merlin’s choice but an innate defence mechanism deep within his magic, it needed him live, as did destiny. It would fight to keep him alive, even if Merlin himself did not command it.

But Merlin knew even his magic could not help him now. Its power was being consumed by the battle to keep his body alive and there was nothing left to fight the external threats. Almost gratefully Merlin waited for the jaws of the Hell Hounds to crush his neck and end the intolerable pain and bring peace...but they didn’t. They just held him on the ground and waited. 

“Warlock, look at me” The dark voice from his nightmares called him and he was unable to resist. Merlin turned his head, though the pain was ripping through every part of him. “Look at this boy as he pays for your errors, as so many others have done.” 

With that Arawan strode over to Berwin, knelt and placed a hand on his forehead “Well, he’s still alive, but not for long. The Underworld awaits him and he will suffer eternal punishment in your name, Merlin” Arawan pressed down hard on Berwin’s head and the boy stiffened and then began to writhe in agony, twisting and turning, silent screams showing on his face as Arawan began to push his soul down into Hell. 

There was nothing he could do, Merlin was completely helpless and the boy would die. Forever banished to the Underworld and never to know the eternal peace of Avalon, never to be re-united with Niamh...

“Please” His voice was harsh and damaged from the horrors of the past few hours and it was all he could do to manage to force out a few strangled words “Don’t...not him...take me...please, please...” 

Arawan was caught up in the ecstasy of torture; forgetting all other concerns and plans as he succumbed to the joy of inflicting such luscious pain. Losing control in his enjoyment he also lost sight of his longer term aims and gave in to the urge to do the utmost damage now.

“I’ve a better idea Warlock, I’ll take you both” With that Arawan spoke a loud command to the Hell Hounds and they gripped both Merlin’s arms in their fierce jaws and dragged him the few yards to the feet of the vengeful Arawan. Merlin could not even begin to understand how his body could take so much pain and yet remain living. It had to be his magic keeping him alive and conscious and a large part of him wished it would just give up, let him go because the torment was beyond anything...but then it got worse.

Arawan reached out his other hand and pressed down hard on Merlin’s forehead and reality crashed away.

Merlin felt his soul being pulled from his body and jerked downwards, into the very depths of the Earth. He was falling, contorting and spiralling as he plummeted towards the open flames that awaited him. He had always feared being burned alive but he’d imagined a pyre and Uther passing the sentence. Never once had he believed he would burn this way. He suddenly ceased falling and felt himself on land. He looked up, terrified and saw before him the river of fire he knew he had to cross and he feared it.

But he was not alone. For despite the pain he could make out another figure lying at the edge of the river and he knew it was her brother. The boy was going to die and be consigned to the torment of the Underworld and Merlin did not even know his name. The scale of his defeat and the knowledge that the boy would die struck him anew. Then a voice, malevolent and malicious, boomed from the very ground – 

“And it will not end there Warlock. Know that your Prince is so very, very close. He will come and he will be mine. Soon his soul will join yours in my Realm and I will reign in his. You will remain together forever in eternal affliction and you are the cause of it.”

Merlin could bear it no more and let out such a scream of agony, pain, despair and anger that the whole of the Underworld and the Upperworld shook with its power and its hopelessness.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation - Rhoi'r gorau y lladd – Cease the killing. (Welsh)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Merlin’s cry was so delectable that Arawan could not bear to lose the taste so soon, he lusted for the anguish. “Why not indulge myself?” he reasoned. “It would be a feast like no other if the damned Prince and his beloved Warlock could see each other die. I will not deny myself that repast. Then they can fall together into purgatory.”

With that Arawan took his hand off Merlin’s forehead and released his soul.

XXX  
Locked in the agony of the Underworld Merlin had nearly succumbed when there was a sudden lift, a feeling of lightness and release. Not really understanding what was going on, but sensing that it might be his only chance he allowed himself to be raised out of the flames. But he did not go alone. For as he left the hot and arid earth he reached out and grabbed the boys arm. This action caused him such anguish as the boy’s weight pulled open his wounds from the Hounds but Merlin did not let go. Wherever he was going he intended the boy to go with him. He would never leave him behind; never abandon him to suffer.

Head reeling and wounds bleeding Merlin and the boy were pulled back up into the Realm of men and left behind the cruel land of the unpardoned dead. And the beasts within roared their dismay at the loss of so precious a gift. How they had wanted to tear and slash two such young and supple souls. But they knew that there Master must have a plan and that the boy and the Warlock would be returned to them soon; perhaps with the addition of the promised Prince. Such a gluttonous event in which to revel; they could wait.

Merlin felt himself enter back into his damaged body. The pain of the last few minutes now taking on a reality of blood and gore. He heard a groan to his left and saw that the boy was waking; holding onto his shoulder where the Hell Hounds had torn a chunk of flesh from his bone. But he was alive. Merlin had time to be thankful before he felt the fear return. What had Arawan said, Arthur was very near? Oh God, he had to stop him coming, had to prevent Arawan capturing him. But how?

But before he had time to formulate any kind of plan or protective spell there was the sound of rushing feet and yells of “For the love of Camelot” and Arthur and the four knights attacked.

XXX

As he ran up the hillside, the echo of that awful scream ringing in his ears Arthur only had one thought. He had to get to Merlin, he had to protect him. Despite knowing that the lanky youth had reserves of strength and courage that seemed to be endless Arthur still somehow thought of him as needing to be looked after. As not being safe without him around. It was as if neither of them was as strong alone as they were together. Arthur had neither the time nor the inclination at present to analyse this feeling but he did acknowledge its existence. 

But it was time now to act, to protect and to fight. Three things he had supreme confidence in his ability to do. He knew his knights were right behind him, all with the same aim and determination. He let out a yell of “For the love of Camelot.” It was immediately echoed by the knights as they burst into a small clearing and saw a sight that caused their hearts to quake and their belief’s to tremble.

A man, or at least something that resembled a man, was standing tall over the bloodstained and obscenely wounded bodies of two other smaller men. 

He towered above them and had the most bitter and twisted face (contorted in an expression of pure lust and debauchery) that Arthur had ever had the misfortune to witness. It was deeply apparent that he was excited and stimulated by all the pain around him. Something stirred at the back of Arthur’s mind, some repressed memory; but there was little chance to try and retrieve it as his gaze lowered and he saw...them. At the man’s heels were three of the most vicious and diabolical monstrosities Arthur had ever seen. Their jaws were dripping with a disgusting mixture of spittle, and yes, dear God, blood and flesh. The sight made Arthurs skin crawl and his stomach wrench. For he knew at once whose blood and flesh it was; the evidence was lying there on the ground, bleeding for all to see.

In the brief seconds that it had taken for the Prince and his knights to take all this in Arawan had acted. He had uttered a whispered incantation and before they could move a ring of fire had surrounded the erstwhile rescue party. The flames were tall and fierce and moved with a speed that was not natural. Already the men were sweating and feeling their skin redden and pucker under the heat. Smoke was clogging their lungs and burning their throats. Coughing and fighting for breath they tried to push past the flames but it was no good, they were encased in a death trap and there was no escape.

Above the roaring of the hungry flames they heard a voice, deep and resonant and barely human.

“Arthur Pendragon, you have a choice. Give up your soul willingly to me and I will let your knights and the boy live. I will even spare your body from the flames. But if you do not, then know that I, the all mighty Arawan, God of the Underworld and of Revenge will smite all here and will then unloose such horror upon your family, your home and your Kingdom that it will be wiped from the Earth. Throughout time your name will be cursed as the Prince who brought devastation upon Camelot. I will unleash my Hell Hounds in their thousands to feast upon the flesh of your men, woman and children. All will be torn apart and mutilated. My Hounds will cover the Earth in the blood of the innocents, all because of your arrogance and conceit. Look now and see how I will take my vengeance.”

Arthur, reeling from the shock of hearing the name that had haunted his nights, forced himself to stare through the flames and at once knew all was lost.

Arawan was holding a figure up in front of him by the throat, the captive’s feet barely touching the ground, causing him to struggle for what little breath he could get. And the man was frightful to see, a gaping wound in his side and matching gashes on both arms, blood spattered and barely breathing. Yet he was conscious and was looking at the Prince with pain filled but defiant eyes. Deep blue, trusting and concerned eyes, telling Arthur not to do as Arawan asked. Eyes that said “I accept my fate but you must survive.” And beneath all the blood and grime Arthur could make out the face he had known would be there all along; Merlin.

“Let him go, or I will hunt you down and slaughter you like an animal.” Arthur screamed above the noise of the flames, but Arawan just laughed.

“That will never happen; this pathetic scrap of humanity has thwarted me too many times and owes me a death. A debt I will reclaim. But you need not die, at least your body may survive, even of your soul does not. And you can free your faithful knights and this boy here at my feet. You know what you must do, give me your soul and they will be freed and you can join this misbegotten bastard in the Underworld. He will wait for you there I am sure, his loyalty and stupidity will ensure his faithfulness even unto death.”

Saying that Arawan lifted Merlin higher into the air so his feet no longer had even a tenuous purchase on solid ground and began to slowly, and with much enjoyment, choke the life out of the youth.

XXX


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Merlin felt the hands on his throat, as he desperately tried to keep his feet on the ground. He struggled for every single breath. There was barely enough air to fill his lungs and satisfy his aching body but just enough to keep him alive. His head swam and his vision blurred but he could hear everything. The threats and promises made by Arawan and then Arthur’s response. Merlin knew he could not let Camelot be destroyed and that Arthur had to be protected and so he raised his head and looked in the direction of Arthur’s voice. Merlin could not see him but hoped that Arthur would read his intention in his eyes. “I accept my fate but you must survive.” 

Merlin’s hearing was going as his body struggled with the lack of oxygen but he had enough left to hear snippets of Arawan’s next words...

“That will never happen...owes me a death. A debt I will reclaim...your body may survive...soul does not...you must do, give me your soul...join this misbegotten bastard in the Underworld. He will wait for you...his faithfulness even unto death.”

But then Merlin felt what little oxygen he was getting being cut off as he was raised higher into the air. Part of his brain was with his body, fighting now to stay alive but the other part was had registered the awful pronouncement of Arthurs doom and rose to destroy it. Not his Prince, not while he lived. He had not suffered and given so much for it all to be taken away now. People had sacrificed, died and it would not be in vain. IT WOULD NOT BE.

Merlin was struggling for life but deep within him, Emrys was reaching for magic. And he found it. Emrys lifted his arm, turned his body inwards towards Arawan and grabbed the evil God on either side of his face. With a strength unbelievable in a body so close to death Emrys’s eyes turned a deep golden colour and his magic forced itself into the mind of the perverted God. He could feel what the twisted God could feel, see what he could see and know what he knew. And it was terrible. Never before had Merlin’s mind been so exposed to such depravity. The things this being had done defied all explanation – the killings; mutilations and degradations were beyond anything Merlin had even thought possible. As Merlin’s mind fought to stay sane in the face of such abomination and corruption Emrys sought the centre of the God’s existence and there made his stand. Emrys’s magic attacked and harried Arawan’s centre, smashing and dispelling any strength he found there. Emrys was concentrating on destroying Arawan and Merlin was left to concentrate on breathing. But it was a battle only one of them was winning. 

Arawan could not believe that this “thing”; this warlock had the power and strength to fight back so forcefully. He felt his mind being attacked, his carefully garned power being eradicated; and his anger was endless. Using all his strength he forced his mind into a full attack onto Emrys’s invasion. Emrys could feel the God’s storming hatred eating at him, dashing his magic aside and reaching in to consume it. And Emrys did not know if he had the stamina to survive such an assault for long.

But it did not matter, for Arawan had forgotten something. In his rush to kill Merlin and crush the invading Emrys he had not kept his fire spell as strong as possible. The flames still roared and rose high in the air but now they began to flicker in parts, occasionally allowing a small part of them to die down slightly. 

Arthur, who had been watching Merlin with increasing desperation, was unaware of the internal battle going on inside the two powerful magical creatures in front of him. All he saw was his friend being throttled, his friend gasping for barely adequate breaths and flailing around ineffectually trying to fight off Arawan. Arthur knew time was running out and that he needed to do something to rescue Merlin now. And Arthur was not the only one; Lancelot, Leon and Gwaine kept trying to breech the flames, rushing forward and then being beaten back by the heat. Percival had tried to jump them and had fallen, injuring his leg and was now lying half prone on the ground, shouting out hopeless encouragement to the Prince and the knights. 

And all the while Merlin was dying.

Arthur was the only one who spotted the change in the fire. Gwaine and Lancelot were on their knees, seemingly coughing up their lungs after another abortive attempt to escape the fiery trap. Leon was attempting and failing yet again to breech the flames. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur thought he saw the flames waver. Impossible he thought, but then it happened again and this time there was no denying it; for a brief second the flames were weaker. Sensing a possibility, no matter how remote, of being able to get out of there, Arthur knew he just had to figure out when this would happen. The why could wait until later. 

He looked over to the struggling figures of Merlin and the previously triumphant Arawan and he knew at once that something was hurting the God. Somehow he was being attacked. Merlin’s hands were placed either side of Arawan’s face, perhaps he was doing something to him. But Arthur could not see what was happening as Merlin was facing away from him. Again, very quickly, Arthur decided he did not need to know why, he just needed to figure out when the flames would lower and so he watched.

Immediately he saw a grimace cross Arawan’s embittered face and the flames fell a few feet. Now Arthur knew. Somehow Merlin was hurting the vengeful monster (Gods knows how considering he was barely alive and was, afterall, only Merlin) but Arthur was not going to ignore such a gift. He watched and waited and within a few seconds he saw the same look of pain and anger appear on Arawan’s face and he took his chance. He ran straight at the suddenly diminished wall of blistering, elemental destruction and threw himself into the furious flames.  
XXX


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
As Arthur jumped he felt the flames reach for him as if they were alive, burning everything they touched, devouring clothes, flesh and skin. The fire tried to hold him in her grasp and pull him into her infernal embrace. As the pain hit and he felt himself aflame he just had time to think of all the magic users whom his Father had consigned to the pyre. In that split second he knew that when he was King he would never burn anyone. Never, no matter what. The punishment of death by fire was too extreme, no matter the crime.

But despite trying to consume him, the fire lost. Arthur was not to be stopped, not to be claimed by the inferno as so many in his Father’s Kingdom had been. He emerged from the wall of deadly heat and threw himself down to the ground, rolling in the dirt to extinguish the flames that were burning through his jacket, through to his skin. His chain mail was red hot and the pain was intense but he did not stop. Arthur jumped up from the roll and ran straight towards Merlin and Arawan, his sword (which was so hot he could feel it burning his hand as he ran) held aloft. 

XXX

Merlin had reached his end; he had nothing left to give. Emrys’s attack on Arawan’s power had taken the last of their shared body’s reserves and Merlin was finally defeated. Only pure adrenalin and duty (or was it loyalty, love, devotion?) had got him this far but that was all used up now. His weakness from his awful wounds and the lack of oxygen could be held back no more and he was taking his last painful breath. He no longer knew what was happening to the Prince and his friends. He hoped they’d got away but even that worry seemed inconsequential now as his mind slipped into nothingness. His last thought before succumbing was that death was a lonely thing.

XXX

As he ran Arthur looked up and saw Merlin take one last despairing breath and then stop. Arthur refused to believe what that meant and charged even faster.

The Hell Hounds suddenly became aware of his approach and began running from their position by Berwin but they were too late. If truth were known no-one could have stopped Arthur, not all the Hell Hounds in Purgatory, not the God of the Underworld himself. He lunged at Arawan and with a massive effort plunged his sword into the Gods chest.

All was silence for a brief moment and then everything changed. Arawan collapsed onto the ground, clutching his chest and screaming in pain and confusion. The fire surrounding the knights went out and all except Percival ran towards their Prince and their friend. The Hell Hounds shuddered to a halt and starting keening, howling out in shared pain with their master. And Merlin...Merlin fell to the earth and did not move.

Arthur dropped his sword and painfully knelt down next to Merlin, momentarily unsure what to do. Leon and Gwaine grabbed hold of Arawan and Lancelot ran to where Berwin lay, all three carefully avoiding the whining Hounds. 

Reaching out his unburned hand Arthur felt for breath or any movement from Merlin and was immensely relieved when he detected a small rise and fall of his chest and if he moved close he could just feel small, shuddering breaths. Neither of these was strong or even regular but they were there and that meant Arthur could turn his attention to the evil doer who had wrought such terror on his friend.

“Arawan, you thought you would rule here, you thought you could bring the evil of the Underworld to the land of men. But you failed. Twice now you and your followers have schemed and killed and nearly destroyed all I hold dear. I will not let this happen again. You chose to come to my realm; you chose evil. So I will choose your death. If you survive your wound you will be executed for crimes against mankind, murder and sorcery. They will be no appeal and there will be no escape this time.”

Arawan roared in anger and fought against the knights holding him bound on the floor but he did not have the strength to break free. The internal battle with Emrys and his wound had weakened him considerably. He could not escape. Not yet.

“Arthur” a quiet voice, hoarse and tired. Arthur looked down in surprise; Merlin’s eyes were barely open and he seemed still to be unconscious but even so he still had the will to warn Arthur “Arthur...he can’t die...not normal death...be careful...be safe...” then a grunt of pain and silence as Merlin lapsed into full unconsciousness.

For a moment Arthur did not understand Merlin’s message – who couldn’t die a “normal” death? But then he realised and cursed himself for his foolishness in forgetting. Arawan was not just a sorcerer; he was something stronger and altogether more dangerous. Arthur didn’t really understand how Arawan had survived the events of a year ago not indeed how he came now to be fully formed and able to wield such magic. There were now so many things Arthur didn’t understand; things that he planned to find out about later. For now though he just needed to figure out a way to deal with what had happened.

But Arthur’s realisation came too late. Arawan knew that with Merlin’s warning Arthur would seek to destroy him at once. Arawan knew of only one way to escape; whatever it cost him he needed to get away. So he drew down into the depths of his dark soul and called up the last of his remaining immortality and it breathed new life into his body. With a yell he threw off the knights and broke his bonds and in a swirl of light and smoke he and his Hounds disappeared.

All that remained was the echo of the last words he had spoken before he vanished.

“Tell the warlock I never break a promise.”

XXX


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
Cursing loudly, using words that even Gwaine had not heard; (despite the number of seriously rough taverns he’d been in), Arthur glared at the spot where Arawan had stood. How could they have let him get away? He consoled himself with the thought that Arawan had been grievously wounded, perhaps even mortally. Feeling the weight of Merlin’s body on his lap Arthur realised there was no time to think about anything except tending to his friends wounds. Hearing a voice speaking quietly behind him Arthur looked up and saw Lancelot trying to calm down a very agitated Berwin. “Oh God” thought Arthur “I forgot about him”

“Lancelot how is the boy?” Arthur asked, worry evident in his voice. That family had suffered enough; he couldn’t bear the thought of something more happening to them.

“He is injured, the Hounds have torn away flesh from his shoulder and he’s also been bitten on the leg but he will live Sire. The Hounds did not spend much time on him.” Berwin seemed to have settled down and was asleep again. “It would appear, from what the Berwin has just told me, that Merlin distracted the beasts and managed to protect the boy somehow. Merlin attracted their attention so they attacked him instead.” Lancelot’s face betrayed a mixture of pride at his friend’s action and fear of its consequences.   
Consequences that Arthur could no longer ignore. He needed to examine Merlin properly and see about tending to his wounds. But in all honesty he wasn’t sure he could deal with this again. His mind went back once more to the events of the last year and the terrible injuries Merlin had suffered. He’d only just survived them and now here he was again, injured. And again all because he was defending someone. “Just once”, thought Arthur as he laid Merlin down on the ground and began to check him over “Just once I’d love him to think of himself first, the idiot.”

Merlin lay as still as the grave, only the slight rasping sound of his laboured breathing gave any indication that he was alive at all. Gwaine sat down beside Arthur and together they tried to clean Merlin’s wounds as best as they could. The damage was frightful and neither man looked at each other as they worked. To see their fear reflected in each other’s faces would have been too much. 

Merlin’s arms were a bloody mess, gashes and abrasions all down both of them and they were bleeding profusely. But these were not the main concern. This was the bite he’d received to the stomach. There was a big hole on the left side, teeth marks clearly visible at the edges of the wound. Arthur shuddered when he thought of how it must have felt to have your flesh ripped from your bones like that. Then he remembered seeing the Hounds chewing on something and he felt sick with the confirmation of his fears about what they had been eating. The blood pouring from this wood was deep and dark and Arthur knew if they did not get Merlin home soon and under Gaius’s care then he could die.

But it was now too dark to travel at night so they had to set up camp. Now the action had passed and there was time to sit, Arthur became aware of how much his body and his sword arm were hurting. He remembered the flames and knew he’d been burnt. So, with Lancelot’s help, he removed his chainmail and let himself be treated. But he would not leave Merlin’s side for a moment, sitting there in silence watching the barely breathing youth. 

“Sire” Lancelot’s concerned voice broke through his reverie “I’ve done what I can and I am sure the burns will be fine but you need to rest and look after yourself. Your hand is the worst Arthur. You must not use it for your sword or anything else until at least Gaius has had a chance to tend to it.”

Arthur nodded, too exhausted to speak. Everyone else was the same and they all sat around the campfire, taking it in turns on watch. Percival’s leg had been looked at by Leon and declared badly bruised but not broken and now there was nothing left to do but wait for morning. All slept.

XXX

Night fell and the forest and hills were filled with the noises of the dark, the usual denizens of woods and country side. But something else lurked there in the dark, waiting by the stream. They had watched with interest the battle and the ensuing, seeming victory. Here they sensed was the way for them to complete the naming with little risk to them. They knew who Merlin was and much as they longed for his soul and his life they were afraid. 

“Sisters” intoned one crone to the other two “This is our chance. Emrys is growing more powerful by the day but as yet Merlin has little control over that half of himself. We need to gather him before he gains that skill. Then we can take his soul, his magic and his unfulfilled destiny.”

“But it will cost us, sister” replied her sibling “We will have to face the Warlock to name him on the last call and he will fight. He could destroy us.”

“We will follow this Arawan and use him to our advantage. He is weak now but he will recover and his will for vengeance is so strong I can taste it on the wind. He will lead us to the Warlock when he is weak and his attention is divided. We wait until Merlin is fighting; injured or distracted and we will catch him off guard. He will not have the time to react to our curse. Fear not my sisters, tonight we will speak the name to the boy healer and then we will follow the stench of revenge and find Arawan. Unwittingly he will enable us to gather Merlin in.”

The three sisters held hands, closed their evil wretched eyes and slowly became beautiful and young again; voices now seductive and rich. Singing softly they waited for the boy Berwin to hear them and awake. For he had a message to hear and they had a name to deliver.

XXX

He heard the song through his sleep, the same beautiful melody that had haunted him back home in the village and now it brought him to full wakefulness. They were back and he knew what he had to do. Berwin got painfully to his feet and limped away from the camp. Following the sound of the singing he came to a small stream and he knew that he would find them somewhere along the river bank.

A sudden rustling behind him made him turn around. There, slightly higher up the bank, sitting in the mud, was a clearly very annoyed Arthur.

“Curse these burns, they’ve made me clumsy. I’m normally much more devious and good at following someone than that. I’m more like Merlin tonight” Arthur said, trying to hide his curiosity and slight nervousness behind some princely bluster. 

XXX

He’d woken when Berwin had tried to slip away and he had followed him. Arthur had been loath to leave Merlin but the young man had not stirred or made a noise since he had fallen unconscious and Arthur really need to know what was drawing Berwin away from the camp. Although Arthur trusted the boy he could not help but remember all the times that someone whom he thought to be on his side had turned out to be a traitor or had been enchanted. Arthur did not want to take any chances this time and had followed the boy. However, when climbing down the bank he’d stumbled and had made a grab for a branch to stop himself from slipping. Unfortunately he’d grabbed with his burnt hand, had been unable to hold on and had fallen anyway.

XXX

Trying to regain some modicum of dignity Arthur barked “What are you doing out here Berwin? It can’t be good for your injuries to be wandering around after dark.” 

“I’m sorry Sire” Berwin replied “But can you not hear them? They are back and I must follow them when they call.”

“Who are back? Who’s calling? I can’t hear...” Arthur stopped and looked at the distress clearly written over the boys face. And he knew. It was the Cyhyraeth. And they had come for Merlin. Arthur could not believe this. After everything they’d all been through and it wasn’t over yet? How many more attacks from magical creatures could they withstand?

“What can we do?” Arthur asked, knowing full well the boy did not have any answers. 

But before Berwin could even begin to reply he heard the singing increase in volume so much that he had to cover his ears and as he did so the sound once again became the awful screech of death he’d heard by his village. Turning he saw the frightful hags waiting on the water’s edge. Berwin lowered his head in fear and revulsion. Arthur looked in the same direction but could not see anything. Nor could he hear what Berwin said he was hearing. Could he really trust the boy?

“Once more we seek you out boy. And this time you are not alone. Shall we let the Prince see our beauty?” And with a cackle the Cyhyraeth spoke a spell and suddenly Arthur could see them. And how he wished he could not. Their appearance was so rank and putrid that he felt as if he was going to vomit. Never had he witnessed such ugliness and venom in any creature.

“Welcome Arthur, we are pleased you are here to witness this. We are surprised boy” this was directed at Berwin “Your perseverance on finding Merlin and seeking to tell him of his fate has impressed us. We did not believe you had the inner resources to come so far. This effort on your part will, of course, make your failure all the more heartbreaking. For it is time for the second calling and there is no escape.” Crowing with laughter the sisters clasped hands and began to chant an ancient incantation. This was one soul they were desperate to harvest themselves and to do this required more magic than usual.

“Why are you doing this?” Arthur demanded. “Hasn’t he been through enough? What could you possibly want with my manservant?”

“Oh, the arrogance of power” the Cyhyraeth intoned. “No-one of low birth or of such little consequence can be worth our gathering, can they our Royal Prince? How little you know and how much it will hurt you when you finally begin to understand the depth of your ignorance? We await that with great pleasure and so will not enlighten you. After tonight we will return once more and we will reap what we desire.”

Raising their hands to the moon and then plunging them down into the fast running water the sisters began their awful song once more. It built in strength and grotesqueness and culminated with them screaming one word up to the heavens and down to the depths. One word sung to all the elements. And that word was 

“Merlin.”

XXX

Back at the camp the peaceful night was rent with a terrible cry. Merlin had woken and his scream of futility and anguish ripped through all the knights. Pale and shaking, he sat upright and began yelling unintelligible sounds, fighting and pulling away from Gwaine who was trying to hold him still. He could not be calmed or persuaded to rest until Arthur ran back into camp and came up to him and held him. Then he gave in and wordlessly slipped back into the dark. But not peacefully, for where he went monsters always followed.

XXX


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19  
Arthur did not sleep any more that night. Merlin was incredibly restless and disturbed, tossing and struggling as he slept. Arthur was concerned that his wounds were getting infected and that he was developing a fever. Watching Merlin’s face contort and hearing the muffled inexplicable sounds that the youth murmured Arthur could only imagine the terrors being visited on him in his sleep. He longed to help but had no idea how.

Arthur thought again of the three crones at the water’s edge. He thought about how they had promised to “gather” Merlin. He thought of the terrible moment when they incanted his name and Arthur had heard that cry from the camp. He recalled his desperate rush back to Merlin’s side, expecting him to be dead. But instead he found him writhing and fighting to get up, speaking words no-one could understand. Arthur had gone up to him and held his hand. This seemed to give Merlin some measure of peace and reassurance and he had fallen back into a fitful sleep. But sleep eluded Arthur, who spent the night sitting beside Merlin, trying his best to comfort him.

XXX

Dawn saw a rag tag collection of men sighing with relief at the re-appearance of the sun. Though it gave little warmth it did seem to presage a new hope and the chance to leave the accursed hillside where they had camped.

Berwin was recovered enough to sit with them and talk over the events of the last night. They sat quietly; a little was away from Merlin, and spoke about what to do about the Cyhyraeth. In the end they decided that the youth had suffered enough and needed to be home in Camelot before being faced with yet more trauma. They would wait to tell him until they could all talk to Gaius, for Arthur hoped that he would know what to do and how Merlin could break the curse.

Their meagre breakfast over, they quickly broke camp. Gwaine and Leon had fetched the horses earlier and they now mounted and began the journey home. Merlin, who had still not awoken, was carefully placed in front of Arthur (Gwaine had wanted to be the one who carried him but there was no arguing with Arthur – it was his responsibility, full stop). Berwin shared first with Leon and then with Lancelot – to spare the horses.

Riding with Merlin held carefully in front of him it all seemed a little surreal to Arthur. Almost as if the events of the last few days were just a dream, a shared nightmare, not real. But then a pained gasp and a shiver from Merlin reminded him how real it actually had been. Arthur leant forward, trying to hear if Merlin was breathing any better or if he was showing any signs of waking but he just seemed the same. Still disturbed, stirring and muttering but not waking. Almost as if he was battling with something in his head. Pulling Merlin tighter to him, trying to give him some form of comfort and reassurance Arthur gave the signal to move faster. The quicker they got back to Camelot the better.

XXX

But after three hours Arthur knew they had to stop. He had felt the front of his shirt getting wet and at first he couldn’t work out why. Then he feared he knew the answer. Placing his hand onto his shirt he withdrew it and stared at the blood that now covered it. Merlin’s blood. The wound in his side must have begun bleeding again and judging by how steeped his shirt was in it Merlin had lost a lot. More than he could afford to lose.

Calling to the knights he pulled over and waited for Gwaine and Lancelot to help get Merlin down. As he was lowered off the horse Arthur could see that the side of Merlin’s shirt was now completely covered in blood and the bandages were sopping wet. The knights’ placed Merlin on a blanket on the floor, a pack under his head and they all stared at him for a moment. They were used to him looking pale and skinny but this was beyond anything they had ever seen before. The lanky boy was almost as pale as a corpse and looked beyond haggard. 

Realising that they needed to let him rest and that continuing at such a fast pace was actually probably doing more harm than good; Arthur decided they would remain where they were for an hour or so. They could all rest and eat and besides the horses were getting tired.

A feeling of despondency had settled on the group; the early morning surge of hopefulness had passed and now they were just tired, worried and hungry. So they gathered together what remained of their rations, shared them out and ate them cold. 

Arthur sat beside Merlin again and tried to get some food into him. He dipped bread into water to soften it and put it to Merlin’s cracked lips but the boy could not eat. Exasperated and anxious Arthur tried again but this time with water and this seemed to be more successful. Merlin managed to swallow and keep down at least a quarter of the water from the waterskin. Arthur was very relieved; it was the first thing they had been able to get into Merlin since they had found him.

And so they rested. And was it really surprising, given all they had been through, that they all slept?

XXX

Arthur woke with a start. For a moment he was disorientated but it soon came back to him. He sat up and tried to work out what had woken him. All around him the knights and Berwin slumbered (Arthur made a mental note to speak about the importance of keeping watch at the next training meeting. No matter how tired you were). It could not have been them who woke him...

“Rise and shine sleepy head” an uneven, hoarse voice came from beside him and Arthur turned his head and saw – Merlin awake. Arthur could not believe it; part of him had come to think that his friend would never get better. Then, taking a careful look at Merlin, Arthur realised that was on overly optimistic reading of the situation. Yes Merlin was awake, but by no means did he look better; in fact he looked worse. Despite his quiet attempt at banter, Merlin was quite obviously still in a lot of pain and very weak. But that didn’t matter; he was finally conscious and coherent; now he could really begin healing.

“Enough with the cheerful greetings, idiot.” Arthur replied, deciding to take his cue from Merlin. If Merlin wanted to go to the safe, gently mocking part of their relationship then Arthur would go along with it. He sensed that Merlin was still hurt and confused and needed the comfort of normality. 

“Where is he?” Merlin spoke with a desperate urgency, obviously struggling to get the words out but equally desperate to know the answer.

“I managed to stab him before he stran...” But Arthur did not get to finish his explanation, for a look of intense frustration had crossed Merlin’s battered face.

“No, where is he? Her brother? The Hounds, I tried to protect...” here Merlin’s voice gave out with exhaustion and sickness and all he could do was look at Arthur for an answer.

Understanding dawned on the Prince. It hadn’t been fear of Arawan that Merlin had first thought of on waking. It had been for the safety of the boy. 

“Berwin? He’s fine Merlin; a bit damaged but not too badly. He’ll make a full recovery. I don’t know how you did it, distracting those Hell Hounds but promise me you’ll never do the same thing again”

But Merlin never heard Arthur’s request. For once he knew that the boy was safe he’d fallen back asleep. But this time Arthur noticed his sleep was more peaceful and less disturbed by dreams.

XXX

 

 

 

.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20  
The next time Merlin opened his eyes it was dark. Very dark. He was lying on a bedroll, covered with a blanket but despite that he was cold. Very cold. Carefully moving his head to look around he saw Arthur not three feet away, asleep, leaning against a tree. Slowly surveying the camp Merlin realised that everyone was sleeping, except for Leon who was standing guard a little way away. Merlin tried to sit up but the movement caused his injuries to hurt and he gave a quiet moan of pain. 

“Merlin, stay still you idiot. Do you want to open the wound?” Arthur had woken up at the slight noise Merlin had made and was now leaning over him, trying to stop him moving. Merlin made a half hearted attempt to carry on but then gave in. Much as it annoyed him to admit it, the Prince was right. If he moved he’d end up really hurting himself. As it was he already felt like death...how, he thought, did he get himself into these situations? Lying back and gratefully accepting the water Arthur was pouring into his parched mouth Merlin tried to remember what had happened.

He could reclaim small bits of the events that had occurred but did not know how they fitted together or how he’d got here. He guessed they must have got away but how he did not know. He could recall the feeling of his life being choked out of him and the awful loneliness of on-coming death. Then came blackness and the terrors in his mind. He paled even more as he thought of the things that had come to him in his unconscious state. The creatures of the Underworld; the torments of his friends; the torture of knowing something but not knowing it...Merlin stopped and concentrated on that thought. Again the awful realisation came to him that he had been told, no threatened, with some action or event and yet was not to be able to recall it.

“What happened Arthur?” Arthur looked searchingly at Merlin’s face. Was he ready to hear about what had gone on? “Come on Arthur, stop protecting me. You know I won’t stop pestering you ‘til you tell me.” Merlin had to find out, he didn’t need Arthur getting all “mother-henny” now. “Please.”

It was the final word that did it; it was said with no irony or humour, just a desperate need to know. Arthur knew Merlin only spoke like that when he really meant it, when something was really important. And so he told him. All about their search; finding him and the despicable things Arawan and the Hell Hounds had done. Merlin kept unnaturally calm when told of what had befallen him but did get very agitated when he heard how the others had put themselves in danger for him. Arthur had to reassure him that they were all okay before he could carry on with the story. When he got to the part where Merlin had managed to distract Arawan Arthur thought of asking him how he’d done it but seeing a look of fear cross Merlin’s face he felt it best to leave until later.

Arthur then reached the part of the story he’d dreaded. Once again he debated about not telling Merlin the whole truth, but he decided Merlin had to know sooner or later. So he told him how he’d escaped the firewall and had stabbed Arawan. Merlin’s eyes lit up at this “You mean he’s dead or captured?” Arthur paused and averted his eyes from Merlin; he couldn’t bear to see the emotion that he knew would soon pass over it. 

“No. I’m sorry, he got away. He used magic, we couldn’t stop him.” He could hear Merlin give a small, almost imperceptible moan at this news. “But he was badly injured so he may be dead, you never know.”

“He just disappeared?” came a tired voice.

“Yes, just one typically cryptic sorcerer’s threat and he was gone.”

“What threat?” Merlin said in a dead sounding voice.

“Can’t quite remember, I was concentrating on making sure you were...er...um...I was concentrating on something else.” 

“Arthur, please, it’s really important, what did he say?” Somehow Merlin knew that this was vital, he needed to know Arawan’s last words.

“I think he said something like “Tell the warlock I never break a promise.” Yes that was it.”

Merlin suddenly forgot to breath and felt cold all over. Everything came back to him in a flood of fear. The cave and the terrible, elemental pain and Arawan’s words, screamed at Merlin as he shattered under the pain:-

“You are cursed and this curse will pass on to your precious Prince Arthur. When he comes for you, I will be your shadow. When he saves you, I will be there. When he finds you, it will mean the end of Camelot and all that you hold dear. For I am your penance and your fate and I will be Arthurs’s doom.” 

Merlin knew now why the thought of returning to Camelot felt so wrong, why he had fought with himself in his sleep to remember. He pulled his arm away from Arthur, who had grasped it in concern when he saw the effects his word had had on Merlin.

“For God’s sake Merlin, what’s the matter? What did he mean? Who is the warlock? Tell me” Arthur was dismayed; Merlin was trying, painfully, to pull himself away from the Prince. Arthur made to move towards him but Merlin screamed, literally screamed, at him to stop. The yell woke all the other nights who sat up, reaching for their swords, thinking they were being attacked. But all they saw was Arthur, holding out his hand to a very wild and sick looking Merlin who was desperately trying to stand and move away. Getting to his feet Merlin stood bent over like an old man, clutching his stomach and breathing very quickly and frantically. His face was white and he shook all over as he looked directly into Arthur’s face and spoke in an empty, torn voice.

“I am death to all around me. I am cursed and he will never give up. He is my punishment for all the wrongs I have done but it will be you and Camelot who will pay the price. I am your doom, not your destiny. My mistakes and my choices will damn you all if I stay; bring destruction if I live.”

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, Merlin turned and ran. A shaky, ragged run but fast, as if all the horrors in the World were chasing him. Arthur and the knights stood stock still; unable to comprehend what was happening. Unable to understand what Merlin had said. For a few precious seconds they were frozen, immobile and Merlin disappeared from view. What the hell had happened...?

“For God’s sake you need to get after him.” It was Berwin “He’s too injured to make it. He’ll die if you don’t get him.”

Woken from their shock by Berwin’s voice they took off down the path, following where Merlin had fled. They could hear him, crashing unsteadily through the undergrowth just ahead of them but, masked by the dark, they could not see him. Rounding a curve in the trail they thought they would catch him but instead they were met by a wind so strong it blew them off their feet. It raged about their heads, threatening to uproot trees and crush them (but strangely, never actually doing so). They struggled to get back onto their feet but it was impossible. They knew Merlin was getting further and further away and that he would die without them. What they didn’t understand was why he’d run. 

Cursing, Arthur pushed and fought but could not make any headway. God, if this wind was doing this to him, what kind of damage would it be inflicting on Merlin?

Then as suddenly as it started, the wind stopped and silence fell. Deathly silence. Arthur could no longer hear Merlin. 

XXX

As Merlin turned and ran he only had one thought – to get away from Arthur and all his friends. He would not be their deaths; he would not bring chaos down onto Camelot. Clutching his side and running faster than his body had any right to do, Merlin escaped into the trees. For a few moments he could not hear anyone chasing him and the thought that Arthur agreed with him and wanted him to leave crossed his fevered mind. But before he had time to dwell on this idea he heard the crashing sound of 10 large pairs of boots coming rushing after him. Arthur and the knights, all of them, even the injured Percival. Panicking, Merlin knew he had no hope of outrunning them, he was too badly damaged. Even now he could feel blood beginning to flow again from his wounds and Merlin had been around Gaius long enough to know he’s lost way too much blood. He needed to stop them chasing him - now.

Coming to a halt Merlin leant up against a tree trunk and waited until he could hear the crashing of the men getting nearer and their shouts as they tried to call him back. Raising his mangled right arm he managed to point it at the trail and began to chant.

“Gwynt i stopio, i...” but a coughing fit made it impossible for him to finish. He gripped his side as he choked, the biting anguish of the wounds making him light headed and faint. But it had to be done. He steeled himself, raised both scarred and bandaged arms this time and tried again.

“Gwynt i stopio, i beidio â brifo”

A great wing blew up all around and headed to where his pursuers were even now gaining on him. He heard them yelling and swearing as they were impeded by the gale. A faint smile ghosted across his exhausted face as he remembered the times he had used wind or falling branches to stop bandits or assassins from killing Arthur. He never thought he’d eventually have to use the same trick on the Prince himself.

Wrenching himself back from such memories Merlin tried to carry on running but somehow he could not move. His body refused to obey his commands and he swayed dangerously. He did not understand why he was unable to run or even walk. He tried to take one step and his legs buckled under him and he collapsed in a broken heap on the ground. His body could take no more and, as he fell into the dark once again, he wondered briefly who would find him first – Arthur or some hungry wild beast. It was a measure of how much he wanted to protect all that he loved that his last thought was “I hope it is the beast.”

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation - Gwynt i stopio, i beidio â brifo – Wind to stop them, not to hurt them (Welsh).


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21  
Arthur held onto Merlin as the horse walked the last few hundred yards into the gates of the citadel. They had made home and Merlin was still alive. On the journey back to Camelot there had been times when Arthur had really doubted this outcome. 

XXX

When he and the knights had found Merlin lying on the ground in the forest Arthur had known Merlin was dead. No-one could be that silent, that lifeless and yet actually live. He could not bear to approach the body and it was Gwaine who eventually took a deep breath and walked over to the stricken youth.

None of the knights wanted to look as Gwaine turned Merlin over; yet they could not help it. They all stared at the pale, unmoving and damaged body and waited for the inevitable pronouncement. They knew it was coming and they dreaded it. 

Gwaine took hold of Merlin’s wrist and held it for a few moments and shook his head; he could feel nothing. Arthur’s face drained of all colour and he suddenly felt the desperate need to be far away from there. Somewhere else; anywhere else. Someplace where Merlin was alive and well and being his incredibly annoying self. He could not be here; he refused to accept that this was happening.

Gwaine reached up to Merlin’s face and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He tried to clean some of the blood off him and moved to straighten Merlin’s stained shirt collar. All of a sudden Gwaine’s movements stopped and he made a strangled sound and seemed to grab Merlin’s neck with some force.

“What are you doing Gwaine?” bellowed Arthur “Leave him be, let him have some peace.”

“I can feel a pulse, here in his neck. It’s very weak and irregular but it is there, he’s not dead.” Gwaine grinned (looking as if he’d just entered a tavern and discovered all beer and girls were free for the day). “Arthur, I’m not sure how but Merlin is still alive.”

XXX

They had ridden without stopping all day and even into the dusk, Merlin again held onto the horse by Arthur. The Prince’s arms were incredibly sore, his burns inflamed and angry and they were causing Arthur much pain as he held his friend. Lancelot had tried to get Arthur to allow him to take Merlin on his horse but Arthur did not even reply to the suggestion. It was for him and him alone. 

Merlin’s fever had grown as they rode. Arthur could feel the heat coming off the youth’s lanky body and the sweat pouring from him. He needed medical help beyond the skills of the Prince and his knights and they had to get to Camelot.

At one point Arthur’s horse stumbled and Merlin moaned as the jolt sent a wave of pain through him. Arthur held him tighter and spoke quietly and calmly to him.

“We’ll soon be back Merlin, Gaius will have you fit to get back to work in no time. Camelot is not far now.”

But instead of settling Merlin those words seemed to disturb him greatly. He began to struggle in his sleep, to feebly try and push Arthur’s arms away and he was mumbling something. Arthur leaned forward to try and catch the words and what he heard confused and (if he was going to be truthful) upset him.

“Can’t go back...not Camelot...death...not with Arthur...never again...can’t go home...”

For the life of him Arthur could not understand what was going on with Merlin, why he seemed so resolute. And Merlin’s refusal to return with him, even spoken whilst under the effects of the fever hurt Arthur. But it did not matter because they were back. They were home in Camelot. Arthur refused to dwell on why Merlin had run, why he did not want to return here. It was just shock, that’s all; some rest and time to get over it and Merlin would be fine. Afterall Merlin was always fine; nothing every upset him for too long. He bounced back, cheerful, an irritating grin on his face and disrespectful words in his mouth. 

But even as he was thinking this Arthur knew it wasn’t so true anymore. He could not deny that even he had seen the hurt behind Merlin’s eyes quite a few times over the last year. But (apart from that one occasion when Merlin had been cleaning the boots and he’d asked him what was wrong) Arthur had studiously tried to avoid dealing with it. Something told him that this time, if Merlin survived, he would not be able to carry on doing the same.

Pushing aside his thoughts Arthur urged his horse on faster and they entered the courtyard. Immediately there was a flurry of activity, someone took Merlin down from the saddle and Arthur dismounted as quickly as he could.

“Go ahead to Gaius; tell him we are on our way.” Arthur instructed Leon, but too late as Gwaine was already racing up the main steps and heading, no doubt for the physician’s chambers.

Taking Merlin’s battered body in their arms, Lancelot and Arthur carried him quickly but gently to Gaius, hoping and praying he would be able to help.

XXX

A day later and Merlin was in his bed, bandaged, warm, clean but still unconscious. His fever had broken but it had left him dangerously weak and Gaius had despaired at first. 

When he’d seen the state his ward was in he had only just managed to gather his wits about him in order to treat the boy. It had been very difficult to see all the scars and wounds but Gaius had called on years of experience and had performed admirably. It was only now, when all the work was done and Merlin was lying in his bed, his fever almost gone, that Gaius had allowed his fears to overcome him. He sat beside Merlin, held his hand and cried quietly.

This was how Arthur found him a little while later when he entered Merlin’s small room. Arthur thought again of how much the boy meant to the old man and felt guilt come racing up to meet him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him Gaius, I tried but...” Arthur put his hand on the physicians shoulder (an incredibly demonstrative action by a Prince who still seemed unbelievable reticent when it came to displays of affection).

Gaius turned and nodded “I know you tried your best Arthur, he’s hard to look after...always getting into trouble and thinking he can save everyone and never thinking about himself. Really he can be a fool, can’t he?” The last part was said with an exasperated but paternal air. “But he will recover thank God. It will take time and a lot of care and I can do little about the scars he’ll bear but he will live.”

Arthur sighed with relief. He had spent the preceding night sitting at Merlin’s bedside, listening to him moan and watching him shake with fever, whilst Gaius had tried to minister to his own burns. But he’d had to report to his Father first thing in the morning and had left before Merlin’s delirium had broken. All through the meeting, as he was telling Uther a version of what had happened, his mind was really back in this room, waiting, watching and hoping. Now he knew. Merlin was going to be alright, and with that Arthur’s strength finally gave out and he staggered to the small stool in the corner and sat down heavily. Merlin was going to be fine, really fine. And Arthur smiled; a small, tired smile but the first one in days. Merlin would live.

XXX

“How are you feeling Merlin?” 

A voice permeated through his half sleep and Merlin opened his eyes and looked over at Berwin, who was sitting beside the bed. 

“Fine...you?” 

“That’s a blatant lie” thought Berwin!

It had been over a week since they had returned to Camelot and though he was much better Merlin’s voice was still hoarse and it hurt to speak so he tended to use as few words as possible. Not that that seemed to matter to Berwin, Merlin thought to himself. “That boy can really talk! In fact he reminds me of me.”

“I’m great, nearly healed. Gaius says he might actually release me from this room today. Though I’ll be sad to leave, I’ve learnt so much just from watching him work. He’s a really good healer. The stuff he knows about herbs and potions and, well everything. You should see how he can put together a cure quick as anything. Oh, I suppose you’ve seen that, what with living with him for so long. He’s brilliant. I only hope I can be as good.”

Merlin gave the boy a friendly smile but turned his head away again, he did not feel up to a conversation with the newly optimistic Berwin. He felt heavy and sick; the worry of Arawan’s promise had not left him. He knew that he needed to leave Camelot as soon as he could. His fears over the threat to Arthur and the whole Kingdom lay heavy on him. And a week’s rest and recuperation had not eased his disquiet. If anything his concern had grown as no-one would speak with him about it. Gaius had said he was not to be disturbed or upset and so all conversations relating to the events of the week before were strictly forbidden. Gaius himself had only spoken briefly to Merlin about the events of the last few days, so scared he was that discussing it would send Merlin back into shock and illness.

He’d been constantly surrounded by people all the time he was ill, never alone and whilst that should have been reassuring (it was always good to feel cared for) it had been difficult as no-one would talk to him about it. Everytime Merlin had tried to bring it up Gaius, Arthur or whichever of the knights that were sitting with him would refuse to be drawn on the issues and would immediately change the subject. It was driving Merlin berserk. Never alone; but also never able to talk about the one thing that he needed to discuss. It seemed no-one wanted to hear about the threat or the promise. Whenever Merlin mentioned Arawan they all replied the same way “We are sure he is dead Merlin, don’t worry.” They treated him as if he were a little child who needed the truth hidden from him and who needed protection at all times. Merlin was fed up with never being talked to properly and never being alone...

That was when Merlin really realised something – he truly had not been alone even once sine he’d regained consciousness. There was always someone with him. He could put this down to some overly solicitous care on the part of his friends, but deep down he knew there was more to it. He knew too that it was Arthur’s doing. But why? Could the Prince have seen his magic as he invaded Arawan’s mind? Was he being held here under a sort of guard while Arthur made up his mind as to what to do with him? For a moment Merlin’s heart beat faster as this idea raced through his mind. But no, it couldn’t be. There was no way Arthur could have seen; Merlin had had his back towards him. And besides, thought Merlin, Gwaine or Lancelot would not be party to keeping him under guard. No it was something else and it did not take long for him to realise what it was.

Arthur knew what he was planning. The Prince must have heard him speak of it whilst he was rambling with fever. Arthur was trying to stop him from leaving. Now that Merlin was getting better, Arthur feared that he would run, that he would leave Camelot. By refusing to talk about what had gone on and by not acknowledging the threat Arthur was trying to make Merlin feel it was safe. The Prince couldn’t really know why Merlin wanted to leave (“Perhaps”, Merlin thought with a sad heart, “Arthur thinks I am a coward and want to leave to save myself”). But whatever the reason Arthur was worried that Merlin would go.

And (Merlin acknowledged silently to himself) Arthur was right to worry. For Merlin did intend to leave that night. And to never return,

XXX


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22  
“I know he wants to leave but what I don’t know is why. Is he just scared?” Arthur was frustrated and consequentially sounded like a petulant child “He’s getting better, the nightmares are not as bad and he knows that I need him to...that we...that it’s best for him if he stays. Afterall who else would give the useless lump a job?” Arthur stormed around the table and sat with an angry thump on his chair.

Gaius sighed. As always, whenever Arthur got close to talking about what Merlin really meant to him he ran away from the emotion and fell back on the old pattern of abusing the boy. Gaius had thought it was getting better but now, at the time Arthur really needed to deal with his feelings properly in order to help Merlin, he was reverting.

“He really is an idiot. How long would he survive without one of us to look after him?” Arthur raged.

“Sire, you need to stop this now. Merlin needs your support and you need him. So stop behaving like a spoilt brat and go and talk to the boy.” The words were out of Gaius’s mouth before he could stop them. Arthur looked up at the older man with an expression of shock on his face. Gaius hadn’t spoken to him like this since he was a small child and had been incredibly arrogant and rude to a serving girl. Gaius had got extremely angry and forced him to apologise, telling him that it was a Prince’s duty to respect and protect everyone in his care; no matter their standing. And Arthur admitted to himself, he had needed telling off then, as indeed he did now.

Watching Gaius’s face Arthur couldn’t help but laugh –the old man was obviously mortified by the way he’d just spoken and was staring at the Prince with an open mouth. Arthur’s laughter seemed to go some way to relieve Gaius’s consternation but he could still see the old man’s determination to make Arthur confront his feelings.

“You are right as always Gaius. I have been avoiding this. Merlin is my friend and I should be able to talk to him about anything. He needs to know everything. We’ve kept Berwin’s story away from him for too long. And I suppose I need to tell him that, well, he’s my friend and that I need him to...Oh, I don’t know, I guess I’ll make that bit up as I go along.”

Gaius turned round and headed for the door with a speed not seen in the old man for many a year.

“Why the hurry Gaius, Merlin’s not going anywhere today is he?” asked a slightly bemused Arthur.

“No Sire but we must get there before you think of an excuse to change your mind.” huffed a quickly moving Gaius “I’m not sure how long this strange fit of emotional maturity you are having will last and I need to get you to Merlin before you back out” And with that he practically ran out of the door and down the corridor.

Arthur stood there and gaped. Was it really such a rare occasion, him being willing to talk about emotions and feelings and girlie stuff like that? Watching Gaius steaming round the corner Arthur had to concede that indeed it looked that way.

XXX

Merlin stared incredulously at Arthur. “Honestly,” he thought, “can this get any worse? A vengeful God and now a trio of doom laden crones haunting me!”

But all he said outloud was “Oh, ok.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction. He’d expected Merlin to be scared, or nervous, or to not believe Berwin. What he hadn’t expected was the seemingly casual acceptance of the news that the Cyhyraeth had proclaimed his coming death twice already.

“Aren’t you concerned Merlin?” Arthur asked incredulously. “You normally take these things a lot more seriously than me.”

“I don’t know Arthur” Merlin answered quietly “It just seems...unimportant.”

“It might be unimportant to you Merlin but it’s bloody important to me. Look you are annoying and clumsy and pretty awful at your job but I’ve got used to having you around. I can’t be bothered to train another servant.” Arthur trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

“You’d find someone else if I wasn’t here.” muttered Merlin.

“God, you are going to make me say it aren’t you Merlin? Ok, well, I’m worried about it because, um, because, er, well...” Arthur stalled here, unable to finish.

“Arthur!” Gaius said forcefully “Just take a deep breath and say it.”

“...because you are my friend and I’d miss you badly if you died or ran away or something...” 

Actually saying it wasn’t as bad as Arthur had imagined it would be. Ok, he’d thought it a lot of times and had even said something similar during all that mess with Mawr. But this was the first time he’d said it to Merlin when there was no imminent mortal peril or indeed when neither of them was at the point of dying. And it felt ok – not that he intended to make a habit of it.

Merlin looked up at the Prince, his face betraying nothing. “Do you mean it Arthur?” he asked very, very quietly.

“I know you’ve been thinking of leaving, I’m not sure why and I just needed to, you know, to tell you that you actually do take quite good care of my horses and my armour has had worse polishing... ”

“Do you mean it Arthur?” repeated Merlin, very slowly and clearly.

Arthur, knowing what Merlin was really asking about, paused for a second and looked Merlin straight in the eye.

“Yes.”

Merlin looked back at the Prince, the man to whom his destiny was inextricably linked. His mind was whirling. He’ thought he’d made his decision. He was going to leave that night. He’d thought perhaps he’d have been able to protect Arthur from afar. He’d believed that Arawan would not go after Arthur if he, Merlin, was gone. But now many questions that he’d ignored flitted across his mind. If he stayed would Arawan return? If he stayed would he find a way out of the curse of the Cyhyraeth? If he stayed would Arthur and Camelot be safer or in more danger? 

But Merlin knew he had no choice really. Knew it as soon as Arthur had spoken. He knew he had no alternative, no matter the danger. It was simple. He was needed.

“Then I’ll stay.” 

XXX


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Two Months Later

“Merlin, what have you done with my sword?” Arthur was standing in the middle of his chambers, surveying everything in the room. And that was easy to do as most of it seemed to be strewn about the floor, bed and table.

Merlin came bumbling in through the door, clean linen in his arms. Which he immediately dropped on seeing the mess spread all over.

“Gods, Arthur, were you attacked or robbed? What happened?” he squawked.

“I was looking for my sword. You’ve misplaced it.”

“Good grief, I was only gone 5 minutes! How on earth did you manage to cause so much mess on your own in such a short time? It’s like being a servant to a cage full of monkeys. And not the bright, clever performing type of monkey. No, more the pick fleas off each other and eat their own po...Ow!”

Massaging his head where the goblet had hit him, Merlin tried (and failed) to suppress a grin. Life was almost good. It had been two months since their return from the caves and forests and he was fit and healthy again. He’d been back at work for 2 weeks and was mainly happy. Arthur and he had settled down into their old ways but this time Merlin knew that underneath it, he was wanted and appreciated. Everyone seemed to feel that the dual threats of Arawan and the Cyhyraeth had faded away.

Whilst he was convalescing he had had many conversations with Arthur, Gaius and Berwin regarding how to deal with the Cyhyraeth. Berwin had gone to ask the druids if they could help but all they would say was if the Cyhyraeth called your rightful name a third time there was no escape. The one useful piece of information he had gained was that the price the Cyhyraeth had to pay in order to gather Merlin’s soul themselves. For the third there could be no hiding behind Berwin. They had to say Merlin’s true name directly to him in order to direct their curse on him. 

Once he was fit enough Merlin visited the dragon and was told the same; but in the creatures usual baffling fashion.

“Merlin is the name they’ve called and Merlin is the only one they must face with their calling. Therein lies your doom and your hope.”

“Why” thought Merlin as he stalked away in a very irritated fashion “can’t the dragon for once give me a straight answer?”

Privately Merlin and Gaius discussed his magic many times. Gaius seemed to think that Merlin’s skills would help when the time came; but Merlin had spent many hours searching for spells that could deflect the Cyhyraeth’s curse and had not found a single one. In the end there seemed little they could do but wait. And as time went on Merlin began to wonder if the vicious hags had found someone else to work their cruelty on.

Life continued. Camelot prospered. There had been no attacks, magical nor normal. The crops grew and the people were happy. All was well.

All was well, but for Merlin’s nightmares. It was these that took the edge of his happiness; that stopped him truly believing all was well.

He could not escape them, no matter how many of Gaius’s repugnant sleeping potions he swallowed. It was always the same. The pain and the feeling of despair. The cave and the promise. The knowledge that, needed or not, he had done wrong by staying here in Camelot by Arthur’s side. That he was bringing destruction to all. He woke each night sweating and wrapped in twisted bedclothes.

He had tried to speak to Arthur regarding his fears but the Prince dismissed them. Arthur seemed to truly believe that Arawan had been killed by his sword. Afterall hadn’t he, Arthur, already dispatched more magical threats and creatures than any other Prince had ever done. He refused to countenance any suggestion that Arawan lived and was a threat.

This attitude irritated Merlin greatly but as time went on he began to think that perhaps Arthur was right. Perhaps Arawan was gone and the nightmares were just his mind trying to cope with the shock of what he’d been through. Even Gaius seemed to think all would be well. 

So Merlin learned to live with the sleepless nights and the underlying sense of unease - if both Arthur and Gaius believed the dreams were merely his memories coming to the surface then maybe they were right. It was easier to think that anyway and for once Merlin needed life to be easier. He was tired of it all; tired of the constant battles, lies and death. And so if for once he took the easy way out and chose to believe all was well who could blame him? 

XXX

“Is there any news of the Cyhyraeth or Arawan?” Arthur stopped pacing around the small guard room and looked directly at Lancelot and Gwaine.

“No Sire. We’ve searched everywhere we can think of, even among the druids and we have found nothing.” answered Sir Lancelot. “It would seem that he is truly dead and they have given up.”

“I do not believe it, in either case.” growled the Prince.”They are out there somewhere and Gaius agrees with me. We need to do more.”

Arthur had been having Lancelot, Gwaine, Leon and Percival seek out information about the threats hanging over Merlin’s head. It had not been hard to hide this from Uther as the knights were still going out on frequent missions to try and find the Lady Morgana. Arthur did not think she would mind them asking a few questions to help Merlin whilst they searched for her. Afterall she and Merlin were close and he was sure she’d want to help. Thinking about her still being missing and being held by God knows who greatly upset Arthur but he still needed to try and track down Arawan and the Cyhyraeth.

“Arthur, why do we not talk to Merlin about this? He was with Arawan for a long time, perhaps he would have some insight into where he would hide?” asked Gwaine, concern written across his face. “And afterall it is Merlin they both want, isn’t it? Shouldn’t he be aware of the danger you think him to be in?”

“No” replied Arthur firmly “Gaius has been worried about Merlin since all this happened. He’s having nightmares and memories of his time with Arawan. Gaius feels, and I agree, that he is not yet strong enough to cope with our belief that these threats are not gone. He just needs more time. If we tell him he may decide he has to leave again. I still don’t really know why he felt that it was best for him to go; why he felt he would be protecting Camelot if he went. But I will not have him feel like that again. I will not have him run and die.” 

Arthur looked up at his knight’s faces, aware that he’d perhaps displayed a little too much concern, so quickly tried to cover it up. 

“Afterall we all know what Merlin’s like. Even without a God and some death prophesying supernatural beings hunting him, he would not survive a night in the forest without us to protect him.”

Lancelot and Gwaine continued looking at Arthur and he knew that they were not taken in. They were as concerned for Merlin as he was and for once he found he didn’t mind that someone else had seen how he felt.

“We must redouble our efforts. We need to find out what is happening and we need to think of a way to combat it without alerting Merlin.”

XXX


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Six Months Later.

“My King, it is true. I saw the Lady Morgana with my own eyes. She was with a group of Druids, heading towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings. It was not 3 days ago.”

Uther glared at the wizened old man who stood, frightened and cowering before him. This was the first news of Morgana since her disappearance months ago. Uther had nearly given up hope but he had carried on searching nonetheless.

This man, Ceallach, had arrived that morning demanding to see the King and on entering the throne room had fallen directly to his knees and blurted out his story. According to him he had fallen in with a group of travellers on the road and they had been attacked by bandits. All the company had been killed except himself and he had been grievously wounded. He said he’d been found and cared for by a small band of Druids. 

But whilst he was recovering he had noticed one woman who did not seem to fit with the others. She was never left alone and seemed always to be watched. She wore a large hooded cloak that covered her face completely. Ceallach had been intrigued by her and had watched, trying to see her face. And he had succeeded one day as she filled the water skins at the river. 

“Her hood fell Sire and I knew at once it was my Lady, for she often came to buy trinkets from my stall at the Market.”

“But why would she not try to escape?” Uther demanded.

“It’s not my place to say really but she looked strange. She moved slowly and listlessly, not like the Lady Morgana I remember.” The old man bowed yet again, desperate to remain on the Kings good side. “I believe her to have been enchanted. Once I was better and fit to travel Gwae, oh, he’s my dog Sire. Well we waited ‘til they were all asleep and managed to sneak away in the night and I made straight for Camelot. I knew your Majesty would want to hear this news at once.”

“Thank you for your troubles in this” Uther answered “If this should prove true and we recovery the Lady Morgana then you will be greatly rewarded. You may spend the night in the Citadel and leave with my knights in the morning. You can show then where the druids were when you saw them last.”

With a wave of his hand Uther dismissed the old man and immediately turned to Arthur, a look of determination and no small amount of desperation on his face.

“You must go and search for Morgana. I want her returned to us, unharmed Arthur. Do not come back until you either have her or can prove to me that this man was mistaken.”

“Yes Father.” Arthur answered simply. There would be no discussion with Uther over this; Uther was willing to risk anything and anyone to find Morgana. Deep within himself Arthur wondered if his Father would be as personally upset if he, Arthur, were missing. Of course the King would be frantic if his only heir disappeared, but would he care as much about Arthur as a person as he seemed to do about Morgana?

Knowing he would never be likely to ever get an answer to his query Arthur roused himself and turned to Merlin.

“Pack supplies for a week and have Lancelot, Gwaine and Leon make ready. We leave at first light.”

“Yes Arthur” the manservant replied calmly “At first light.”

As he watched him walk away Arthur smiled. In the eight months of looking no-one had found any sign of Arawan or the Cyhyraeth. Arthur was sure the threat had passed and but he was still happier if Merlin stayed at the Citadel, just in case.

XX

“I’m worried Gaius” Merlin carried on packing his meagre possessions into a small travelling bag. “We know that Morgana is with her sister. Why would this man tell us she’s with the druids and that she’s enchanted? Something does not smell right.”

“It’s probably a mistake on his part, seeing someone who looks like her and getting his hopes up that it is her and that he’ll get a reward. Anyway, why are you packing?” Gaius watched as Merlin closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“There’s no way Arthur is going looking for her without me. This may be our first serious lead. I mean, what if it is Morgana and it’s a trap? He needs me.” Merlin paused and took a deep breath. “Anyway it’s time I stopped moping about here waiting for something to happen. I need to get on with things. I’ve let my fears over past events cloud my judgement. I have to go with Arthur this time.”

Gaius nodded. Although he was nervous for Merlin he was also relieved. Since recovering from his injuries Merlin had not left Camelot. He had not gone on any hunts or searches, preferring to enchant Arthur with a protective spell and remain in the Citadel. Gaius knew that it had been hard for Merlin to allow Arthur out of his sight but he also knew that Merlin could not stop thinking about Arawan’s promise that he would get to Arthur through Merlin. So Merlin had reached a compromise in his head. He would remain in Camelot (for where else could he ever be) but not go out on missions with Arthur. That way if Arawan did return then at least they would be within the Citadel and not out on some lonely patrol with no extra help. It was not ideal but it was the best Merlin could come up with. And it had meant that he had got a lot better at protective charms!

“Berwin can help you while I am gone.” Merlin said with a smile. He was quite proud of how much the boy had learnt in the last 8 months. “He’s probably better than me already” he joked.

“Well, he certainly breaks fewer things!” answered Gaius with a wry smile, which soon turned serious as Merlin headed out of the room. “Merlin, take care, please.”

Stopping at the door Merlin returned and gave Gaius a hug. He then grinned, a little nervously, and ran out of the room; nearly tripping over a broom as he did so. Gaius smiled until he’d left and then a look of concern crossed his face. He knew Arthur had not forgotten the curse or the prophesy; and that he’d been quite relieved to have Merlin safely back at the Citadel and not out with him. Gaius wasn’t sure how the Prince was going to react when Merlin turned up and announced he intended on going with them.

 

XXX

“No” yelled Arthur “It’s just not happening. You are not coming with us Merlin. Now go and unpack and see to that list of chores I’ve left for you to do whilst I am gone.”

Merlin simply looked at his Prince and said “You know I will just follow you if you do not let me come, don’t you Arthur? It is right that I come with you, you know it is.”

“Gods Merlin, would it kill you to do as I asked, just once? I am supposed to be the one in charge you know.”

Merlin merely shrugged, muttered something about “That’s what you’d like to think clot pole.” And rode out of the gates.

Arthur sat there for a minute and then sighed, kicked his horse and followed the annoying young man. He had to admit, it did feel right to have Merlin back riding with him. The past few months, going without his usual shadow had felt wrong somehow. As if he was not complete – not that he’d ever had said so. Arthur had put up with it because he knew the reason behind it. He knew Merlin had believed that Arthur would be safer without him and the Prince had felt it better to go along with this. Especially since he could not quite get rid of the feeling of unease he had himself regarding Arawan. However in 6 months nothing had been found and Arthur decided that if Merlin felt it was time to return to going out with them then so be it. 

Arthur would never tell anyone how relieved he was that Merlin had returned. Maybe now he would get back his old friend properly.

XXX

At the front of the riders was Ceallach, riding a gray horse and being followed by a rangy, mangled looking mutt. As he rode under the main gates and out into the lower town a small, satisfied smile came over his face. Everything was going as planned. He allowed himself one quiet little insane giggle and then pulled himself together. He could not allow the mask to slip just yet. But if anyone had looked into his eyes they may just have caught the reflection of Hell Fire and revenge in their depths.  
XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Ceallach – ancient Celtic name, meaning war and strife.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25  
Merlin was finding the whole mission much more nerve wracking then he had expected. Every noise had him turning worriedly in the saddle and looking for sorcerers – well to be exact two particular sorcerers, Morgana and Morgause. He just knew something was not right with this trip but could not put his finger on what. It made it harder that he could not discuss his concerns with anyone else riding with him. No-one else knew that Morgana had turned traitor against Camelot and Arthur and there was no way Merlin could let them know without betraying his own secret.

A sudden crashing in the trees to his right had him speeding up his horse and getting between the noise and Arthur in a very dramatic fashion. Arthur’s mount reared up and threatened to throw his rider and it was only because the Prince was such an accomplished horseman that he managed to retain his seat.

“Merlin, what on earth...” Arthur spluttered.

“There’s something in the trees Arthur, you need to take cover. It could be Morgause...”

Merlin had barely finished speaking when the noise became louder and out of the undergrowth burst – a very startled looking badger.

“Good grief Merlin, if you are going to jump at every sound this is going to be a very long journey.” Arthur said in an even yet gently mocking voice. “Just leave the worrying to me ok and get on with doing – whatever it is you are good at doing on these trips; like talking too much and annoying us all.”

Although a little embarrassed Merlin was also quietly happy with this response from the Prince. It was like old times; Arthur was treating him as he had used to do before ... Well Merlin wasn’t going to think of that. 

This moment of levity and normality seemed to pass to all the group and a much happier search party carried on riding. 

But the happiest of all was Ceallach. The boy had been spooked and his only concern had been if it was the witch Morgause. He had not given the wizened old man at the front of the riders a moment’s thought. 

“I’m not suspected, Gwae” he whispered quietly to the bedraggled hound that followed him. “They do not give me a moment’s thought beyond their need for a guide. Fools.”

XXX

The camp fire burned gently as the knights ate their stew. Yet another reason to be glad to have Merlin back with them – he was an excellent campfire cook. Unlike Gwaine who had insisted on taking the role over the last few months. His meal on the previous expedition had consigned over half of the knights to 3 very unpleasant days of food poisoning.

Clearing the bowls and the cooking pot Merlin made his way to the stream to wash them. En route he caught Lancelot’s eye and the knight immediately understood that Merlin wanted to speak to him alone. 

“I’ll go and make sure Merlin gets back in one piece Sire” Lancelot said to Arthur. “Who knows; there may be a killer rabbit or a vicious shrew waiting to do him harm.”

The Prince saw the look of outraged indignation on his manservant’s face and burst out laughing. It felt good to be out in the open, with Merlin and his loyal knights and to be able to joke; it felt normal and right. Merlin muttered something about “Clown Princes” and “That’s not funny” and stalked off. He was swiftly followed by Lancelot.

As they washed up (Lancelot helping despite Merlin’s rather – it must be said – weak protests) the youth told the knight of his worries about the trip being a trap by Morgause in order to kill Arthur. Merlin did not mention his belief that Morgana was involved as well. No-one except Gaius and himself knew about her actions of the previous year and he was not about to reveal them without evidence. 

“Can you use your magic to try and feel if she is around?” Lancelot asked “Will you know if she comes to attack?”

“I can sense her once she is close but it may well be too late then. We need to take great care, protect Arthur at all times. I know he is really pushing us to find these druids; he wants to rescue Morgana. But I know something is wrong.” Merlin clasped Lancelot’s arm. “Promise me you’ll protect him, him above all others Lancelot.”

The knight hesitated, wanting to say that it would be Merlin he would protect first. Merlin knew what was in his heart and spoke again.

“I thank you for your care my friend but Arthur is worth so much more than me and I could not live with being the cause of his death. You must do as I ask.”

Unable to speak Lancelot looked at the man he trusted above all, the man to whom he owed everything, and promised.

XXX

At the darkest edge of the camp Ceallach watched all this play out before him. His hand reached down and stroked his hound. The dog gave a low growl and then accepted the gesture. Ceallach liked this sign that the spirit had not been entirely destroyed in the beast. Perhaps when the time came it still might be of some use to him. 

He thought back to when he had entered Camelot a month ago. His illness and forced acceptance of mortality had changed in appearance and he had become skilful in hiding. He’d listened and learned of the goings on in the mighty city and had made his plans. He knew that Uther and Arthur still searched for Morgana and he used this weakness to his advantage. 

He stroked the broken charm around his neck. It was the last remnant of who he had been and on its charred and dented surface it showed his sigil; a pale while demonic horse. All he had left because of these fools. His escape had cost him dear; he’d had his immortality ripped from him and had been left with mere magic and it rankled and ate at the black centre of his irredeemable soul. Because of them he was no longer a god. He would live and die a mortal death. But they would pay; his magic was strong and he still had some powers he could call on and those would be used to their full extent. He still remembered how the boy had broken through into his mind with such surprising force but he knew how to deal with that this time. That was all the defence the warlock had and it was useless now. 

He watched the knights, the Prince and the interfering boy as they prepared for the night; discussed plans for tomorrow and finally bedded down near to the fire. The last to sleep was that servant (Ceallach almost growled himself when he thought of him). The fool spent at least 20 minutes walking around the edge of the camp, laying down defensive spells, trying to keep the danger out. 

“What a pity” thought the old man “Such a waste of his time and his paltry talents, such as they are. The danger is already here.”

As he too lay down to sleep he was comforted by the thought that the morning would bring about their downfall. And in his sleep he remembered what had led him to this place and to his sweet, longed for vengeance. 

Sleep brought him release from his powerless, assumed persona; in his dreams he could enact any revenge he desired. For, free from the confines of the conscious world, once again he could become his true self. He could become Arawan again.

XXX


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

8 Months Previously - Arawan's Story

Arawan knew that with Merlin’s warning Arthur would seek to destroy him at once. Arawan knew of only one way to escape; whatever it cost him he needed to get away. So he drew down into the depths of his dark soul and called up the last of his remaining immortality and it breathed new life into his body. With a yell he threw off the knights and broke his bonds and in a swirl of light and smoke he and his Hounds disappeared.

All that remained was the echo of the last words he had spoken before he vanished.

“Tell the warlock I never break a promise.”

XXX  
Injured as he had been by Arthur’s sword Arawan did not have the energy to determine where he would materialise. He barely had enough to get away at all and it was only his anger at being beaten once more by these pathetic humans that gave him that strength. Oh, the ignominy and shame of it! 

As he landed, with a hard crash, onto the coarse undergrowth of a forest clearing, he had one moment of clarity before darkness descended. He had been bested by them again and all was lost; no power, no triumph and no ruling over mankind. And all because of two insignificant humans. He could not understand what had happened, why he had lost. There had to be more to them than just a Prince and a sorcerer. The power the boy had shown at the end had surprised him. Arawan knew he had underestimated the youth’s determination; it must have been this that gave him the strength in the end. There could be no other explanation. That Merlin boy had used his fear of death and channelled it into raw magical power; a one off response to impending doom. It had purely been the shock of the warlock invading his head that had enabled the puny boy to beat him. Now he knew the boy had some skills in mind magic Arawan would know how to defend himself next time. For, even in his pain, Arawan knew there would be a next time.

The humiliation burned within him with such a flame that any feelings other than revenge were cauterised and charred to nothing. As he lost consciousness he vowed that he would wreck havoc on them. If all else was lost he would at least have his vengeance.

XXX

Arawan came back to himself slowly, allowing his anger to awake again with him. He was aware that he was no longer in the forest. He looked around and realised that he was in a small impoverished room, his even more decrepit hound lying at his side.

“I’m in a slum.” 

This was the first coherent thought that came to his mind. Not gratitude for his escape and survival, just more hatred and vitriolic words.

Hearing a slight noise behind him he raised himself up and caught sight of a woman, abasing herself before him. She was filthy, repulsive and fetid but (he thought to himself) she does know how to bow down before a God.

“Tell me, Hag. Where am I and why have you brought me to such a squalid and rancid hovel?” 

His voice was cold and hard but weak. He heard this and despised himself for his frailty.

“My Lord, I am your humble servant. I am Aerona. I...I...found you My Dread Lord, outside, in the clearing” the old woman was babbling, clearly both terrified and mesmerised. “You were hurt; I brought you to my home, tended to your wounds with what little skill I have...

“You dared to touch me? Touch my sacred presence with those revolting hands?” Arawan was beside himself with rage. No-one, none of his followers, had ever taken such liberties.

“I would not have but, My Dire Liege; you were so badly hurt I thought only to help you.” The petrified crone shook as she spoke, fearing she was mere seconds away from death. In a desperate attempt to stave away the dreadful mortification that she knew would come she stuttered on “If I did wrong then you must punish me. I am but your lowly minion. I am not fit to touch your robes, yet you lived My Master. Please allow me to tend to you more; you are not yet fit and able to care for yourself. Grant me the privilege to tend to you and once you are well, do with me what you will. I am yours to kill or keep oh Dark One.”

Aerona bowed her head again and waited for the end.

Arawan paused and reflected. He assessed his injuries. He noticed for the first time the pain and the incredible weakness that suddenly seemed to overtake his body. Yes, he would survive but he was still gravely hurt (curse these frail human bodies). But the hag was right. He would not be able to rise from the bed soon and he did need some aid if he was to gain back his health. It would do well to keep this seemingly dedicated follower as his slave until such time as he was able to seek his retribution.

“Speak churl, how did you recognise your Lord?”

“By your sigil, My Master. I would know it anywhere. I have been an initiate of your faith since my birth. I was named for you.”

As she spoke the old woman moved her filthy sleeve part way up her arm and revealed a large dark blue tattoo in the shape of a demonic horse. It was unmistakeably the brand of a devotee to the cult of Arawan; she was a disciple of the Underworld and Arawan knew he was safe. She would tend to him well and he would return this pathetic mortal carcass to health; ready to hunt again.

XXX

One month Ago  
The past 7 months had been delicious torture for Aerona. Her Master had suffered greatly, adapting to the fragility and pain of a human frame and had taken out all his suffering on her. He had often ordered his hound to attack and bite her. 

But she did not mind, it was her duty and her pride. She loved her Lord with all of her wicked heart and had (in the fleeting moments that he had deigned to speak to her) fanned the flames of his hatred. She had spoken of the horrific things he could do to the warlock and the Prince. She had listened to and encouraged him as he spiralled down into insane rant that lasted days. She thrilled to hear all the details of the exacting pain they would feel, the exquisite torture he would inflict on them and the eternal torment they would experience as each watched the other suffer.

She luxuriated in his evil and she took joy in his poison. All her life she had served her Master. Now she would lay humbled at his feet and soak up all his malevolence and feast on his corruption.

Yet she knew it these plans would come to nothing; for he was dying. Whilst his hatred had grown and developed over the months his body had not. He was still an invalid. His anger and bitterness had consumed all his energy and his body had not recovered because of it. He could barely leave his bed and was physically declining. His mind was eating his own emotions, turning in on itself; he was becoming more psychotic every day.

Aerona knew the end would come soon.

But so did Arawan and he would not accept it. He knew he would find a way out. He poured over his memories and past misdeeds. Somewhere in his mind was the way to restore himself to health. 

And then he found it and he smiled...

Aerona entered the hut with some water in order to once more clean her Masters suppurating wounds. She moved over to the cot and pulled the thin curtain aside; only to feel intense pain as something ripped through her skin and into her stomach. Gasping in pain she stared in fear and distress at her Master and cried out in fear. It was his hand that had thrust into her, slashing and tearing as he forced it deep inside her; destroying her.

Arawan read the unspoken question in her eyes and told her what she wanted to know.

“By the prolonged pain and agonising death of a devoted servant I can regain my mortal strength. It is an ancient magic and it will mean untold torment for you. But it will bring about my resurgence and the beginning of my revenge. That is what you want, is it not my slave?”

And Aerona could only concede the truth in what he said as she fell slowly to the floor. She knew her end would take hours, if not days; that he would gain strength from her sorrow, agony and wretchedness. And all she could feel was how right it was that she should suffer for her Lord. As he twisted his hand and pulled at her vital organs she submitted and handed over her life and death to the Master whom she adored. 

And as she fell into the pit of pain she smiled beneath her screams – her life had its true meaning now.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Aerona – Welsh girls name meaning slaughter


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

As the knights packed up the camp in the early dawn, Merlin quietly lowered the protective spells. Nothing had happened in the night and he was beginning to think that he was being overly paranoid. Yet the feeling of “not-quite-rightness” continued to nag at him.

He heard the dog bark and jumped a little. Ever since the attack by the Hell Hounds he had stayed well clear of dogs of any sort and travelling with one now made him nervous. He just didn’t trust them and had made a point of having very little to do with Ceallach as the man never seemed to go anywhere without that mangy looking cur. Just looking at it made Merlin’s flesh crawl and his bite scars begin to hurt. There was something about the animal that reminded him of the ones that had savaged him and Berwin. Sometimes Merlin would swear that it seemed to stare at him with hatred, saliva dripping from its ill formed jaws. Other times he thought he was just imagining it, letting his fear sway his mind. But...

“Merlin, stop idling and help pack up. It’s supposed to be your job so no slacking off.” Arthur’s voice rang out across the clearing and Merlin responded at once – tipping the dregs of the water from the pot onto the smouldering remains of last night’s fire and packing away the cooking utensils.

XXX

They made good progress, riding on through the clear bright morning. All the knights were in good spirits and Arthur was talking as if it were an inevitable outcome that they would find and free Morgana. To them the very air seemed to dance with hopefulness. They were so convinced that their mission would be a success. Ceallach and his dog seemed sure of the way and were positively bounding ahead in eagerness; all would end well.

The only one who seemed ill at ease was Merlin. As he rode close to Arthur Merlin felt that the day was full of foreboding and he could not understand his companions’ happiness. It was so out of character for them all (well, with the possible exception of Gwaine who was usually irrepressible). To Merlin the bright sunlight was headache inducing and the gentle breeze the others were enjoying seemed to have an edge of harsh cold to it. Everything was tinged with a feeling of not being what it seemed. Something bitter and evil was behind all that appeared to be good and pleasant on such a day. 

The further into the forest they rode that worse Merlin’s feelings got and the harder he found it to hide his misgivings.

“Oh for goodness sake Merlin, crack a smile will you or say something at least. The silence is getting depressing. It’s not like I’ve forced you to go on hunt or anything.” grumbled Arthur. 

In truth he was finding Merlin’s presence a little oppressive. He’d been looking forward to getting their relationship back to normal and this silent, pensive servant was not what he’d expected. He had truly thought Merlin to be over his concerns and fears but it appeared not to be the case.

“I am sorry Arthur but I have a ...”

“Yes, I know, it’s another one of your funny little feelings. Really Merlin, I never know when to take you seriously about all that. It’s a lovely day, the paths are clear, the search is going well and I know we will find Morgana. Have a little faith will you.”

Merlin nodded “I’ll try Sire, I will.”

“Good. Now speed up, Ceallach and that flea ridden mutt of his are way ahead.”

Merlin looked on down the trail. Arthur was right; Ceallach was nearly out of sight, riding down the twisting paths at full pelt, almost like a hound hunting a deer. This was not right Merlin thought, he should not be going so far ahead. What if there were bandits or Morguase’s men waiting for them by the river? 

Arthur took his eyes off the road ahead and stared at Merlin. He’d had experience of Merlin’s “funny feelings” before; perhaps he should take this one more seriously. Seeing the expression of barely suppressed concern on his manservant’s face Arthur was about to ask for more details when...

“Sire” 

It was Leon who shouted and Arthur turned from Merlin and looked towards his trusted knight.

“We’ve lost sight of Ceallach, Sire. “

Sure enough, when he glanced at the trail Arthur could no longer see the old man. Nor could he tell which way he’d gone as the path seemed to divide into two different directions about one hundred yards ahead. Cursing under his breath Arthur spurred his horse forward and joined up with the other knights.

“What now, Arthur?” asked Gwaine, gazing left and right down the two paths.

“What I want to know is why he hasn’t waited for us.” Lancelot looked around at all of them “If he is supposed to be our guide, why has he left us now?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments as each member of the party began to realise the implications of Ceallach’s actions. 

“I mean, what do we tritely know of this man?” continued Lancelot. “Did King Uther investigate his story about being a market trader in Camelot? Do we know if he is telling the truth?”

Belatedly they all realised just how lax and trusting they had been. No-one had checked, they had all just trusted the man’s background story. Uther had been so keen to find Morgana and so too had they; that they’d just taken everything Ceallach had said as given.

Merlin looked bereft; how could he have been so foolish. He’d been looking for an outside threat and now it would seem possible that the menace had been within their group the whole time. This was the source of all his foreboding and ill feelings. He had to get Arthur away from whatever this was. Merlin did not know for certain who or what threatened them but he could guess. And no matter what he knew that whoever it was they meant harm to his Prince. He could not allow that

But before anyone could respond to the situation they all heard a loud barking coming from the pathway to their left. It was the dog, Gwae. They were all sure of it.

“Well, whatever his plan is, now is the time to find out” yelled Arthur as he spurred his horse and took off down the darken path deeper into the forest. 

Cursing Arthur’s impetuous nature Merlin raced after the Prince, beating even the highly trained knights in his response time.

“Arthur” he shouted as he caught up “Arthur, wait. You know it’s a trap. Please, wait, think, plan.”

Turning his head back to see his manservant following him Arthur replied “It possibly is Merlin, but it maybe our only chance to get Morgana home so I’m going. You don’t need to come, I’ll understand.”

Their horses’ level now Merlin was silent for a moment and then spoke, his quiet determined voice barely audible over the sound of pounding hooves.

“My promise still stands Arthur. Until the day I die.”

With that the two friends sped off, closely followed by the knights. They rode as if escaping from hell; but in reality they were riding towards it.

XXX


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The sky darkened and the forest grew ever more dense and impenetrable. The horses were unable to go any further and so the men had abandoned them at the edge of the path. They no longer rushed head long forwards, some level of control and thought had re-emerged and they crept as quietly as they could through the undergrowth. The knights had their swords ready in their hands and Arthur quickly followed suit. 

Looking at the unarmed Merlin, Arthur offered him his knife which Merlin clumsily accepted. Seeing how his manservant held the knife as if it were a week old dead fish Arthur only just stifled a small laugh. Even in such a potentially deadly situation Merlin could always be counted on to do something to release the tension a little.

Ahead of them the forest seemed to open out a little and they could just make out a small clearing a few hundred yards off. Arthur silently indicated with a few sparse hand gestures what he wanted his knights to do. Immediately understanding him, Gwaine and Perceval peeled off to the right and Leon and Lancelot to the left. They began to encircle the clearing, coming at it from all sides.

Arthur gestured for Merlin to stay where he was and began to move slowly forward, nearer to the open space. A slight noise caused him to look behind and he had to say he felt no surprise on seeing that Merlin had disobeyed him and was following closely. With a glare Arthur tried again to indicate that Merlin should remain hidden safely but was rewarded with a look of innocence and a shrug of Merlin’s shoulders. Sighing with seeming irritation (but secretly pleased) Arthur bowed to the inevitable and carried on; Merlin a few feet behind him.

Arthur crouched at the edge of the clearing and his heart leapt as he saw Ceallach and the dog standing in the middle, smiling and waiting. But there was something different about the older man now, he seemed to be more upright, more imposing and something else...Arthur couldn’t put his finger on what it was but the figure standing there reminded him of someone. If only he could place them he might have some reason for this total change on the situation. Behind him he heard a gasp and he knew that Merlin felt the same. What the bloody hell was it? And why did he suddenly feel so afraid?

Merlin knelt behind Arthur and just stared at the man in the clearing – the sense of magic that emanated from him was immense and so dark that it made it hard for Merlin to breathe. How had he hidden this during their journey? Merlin did not understand what was happening but he knew it was bad. To have concealed such evil and to now be displaying it meant that whatever game the old man was playing had reached its climax.

Arthur gave the signal and the knights began to move forward as one. Merlin, his attention drawn back to Arthur by his movements, tried to grab hold of him; tried to stop him approaching the figure in the middle of the clearing. But he was too late and all Merlin could do was follow.

The men slowly approached and it seemed that Ceallach was unaware of the encroaching danger. Arthur watched the man as he crept through the trees; still unsure of what was happening but knowing that whatever it was it was not good.

It happened just as they reached the edge of the clearing. Ceallach raised his head and his hands and intoned

“Eu dal ac yn eu dal.”

And with a flash of blue light the knights and the Prince were held by invisible bonds, unable to neither move any nearer nor raise even a hand in their defence. With another flash the knights crashed to the ground unconscious or dead; it was impossible to tell.

Merlin, on hearing the spell had tried to counter it, to protect Arthur but in doing so he had left himself open and he too was trapped. The crushing weight of the magical bonds felt as if they were tearing him in two and at once his own magic tried to fight them off. But to no avail. He was strong but this evil was stronger. Caught off guard (his magic being used to try and shield his Prince) he had not been able to save himself and the attacking magic had suppressed his own. Falling to the ground his mind ran any number of possible scenarios for what was happening. Was it Morgana? Morgause? A sorcerer out for revenge? An assassination attempt by a neighbouring King?

But as he stared up at the slowly approaching figure of Ceallach the lurch of fear in his stomach finally made him admit what he felt he had known all the time. As the old man got near enough so Merlin could look directly into his eyes there was no more denying the truth. It was Arawan. He had come to make good on his promise and they had followed him like sacrificial lambs to the altar. He had failed. He’d let the passing of time and the belief of his friends that the danger was over lull him into a false sense of security. Merlin lowered his head, heavy with the weight of his defeat and gave a small cry of despair.

“Merlin, what’s happening? Who is he?” 

Arthur yelled as he watched their ex-guide advance upon his manservant. In vain the Prince tried to move, to get close to Merlin, to see who it was who was threatening him. Arthur struggled against the magical bonds and in his peripheral vision he could see the knights doing the same but to no avail. None of them could free themselves.

“I’m sorry Arthur” Merlin replied so quietly Arthur had to struggle to hear “I should have known. I should have left Camelot. It’s all my fault and I am so sorry.”

Arthur was chilled by the depth of pain and resignation in Merlin’s voice. What could have destroyed his friend in such a short time? Who was Ceallach? 

But then he heard a voice that brought back the nightmares of the past; a voice that he would never be able to forget and suddenly Arthur understood Merlin’s desperation, for he felt it too. Although the figure in front of them had the outward appearance of Ceallach there was no mistaking the changed voice. It was Arawan; he had returned.

And they were completely at his mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Translation  
> Eu dal ac yn eu dal – Trap them and hold them (Welsh).


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 – Purchase from Sorrow

Hanging suspended in mid air, arms stretched to breaking point Arthur could only watch and feebly protest as Arawan walked slowly towards Merlin. The Prince could hardly make a sound, his voice harsh and broken from the screams that the last hour had wrought from him. He shuddered as he remembered the pain of the torture and the sickening joy of the madman as he inflicted it. 

And all the time Arawan had taunted Merlin; a forceful spell making him watch as his friend and his Prince was belittled, abused and tormented. Merlin had yelled and begged, pleading with Arawan to stop, to hurt him instead. Even in his anguish Arthur could hear Merlin saying it was his fault, he was the one who had defeated Arawan so he should take the punishment alone. The Prince could not understand how the younger man hoped to make the insane torturer believe this; but he knew that Merlin was trying to say anything that would make Arawan cease Arthur’s torment. Underneath his pain Arthur felt a sense of gratitude for all Merlin was trying to do, though it made little difference.

Arthur had nearly reached breaking point when Arawan had stopped the spell that had had the young blonde writhing and crying out in pain and had finally responded to Merlin’s pleas. He turned to the youth and asked 

“What would you have me do then boy?”

Merlin did not answer in words; he just looked at Arawan and nodded. The psychotic sorcerer knew what he meant; Merlin would do anything to save Arthur from the pain. That’s what had made inflicting it such a delight.

The once all powerful god and now insane mortal sorcerer smiled sweetly and gently caressed Arthur’s torn and bloody chest. He had enjoyed making the arrogant Prince scream, but now it was Merlin’s turn for anguish and Arthur’s turn for sorrow.

The youth was dangling a few yards away; similarly held by magic, feet barely touching the ground and arms pulled above his head. Arthur didn’t understand why Merlin didn’t fight or cry out as Arawan came closer. Why he did not twist or turn to escape the pain that he must have known was coming. But then Merlin looked Arthur in the eye and the Prince knew why. It showed in Merlin’s face and in his eyes. Merlin was grateful – not for the torment he was about to receive - but for the fact that Arawan had stopped hurting Arthur. Arthur couldn’t bear it. Merlin was willingly sacrificing himself again for his sake and there was nothing he could do about it. 

As the torturer approached Merlin the youth smiled and spoke just loudly enough for the three of them to hear.

“You know what I am. You cannot break me. Use all your skills and I will not shatter. I have beaten you twice, and will do so again. You are nothing, just a broken down old man.”

Arthur couldn’t comprehend it; Merlin was taunting Arawan and therefore certainly bringing down even heavier torment onto himself. The Prince did not understand the full meaning behind Merlin’s words but he could see the effect they had on Arawan - he blanched white and then an expression of total unhinged rage overcame his face and he attacked Merlin with all his maniacal force.

And Merlin screamed and Arthur cried.

 

XXX

Merlin had watched the torture of Arthur with horror and guilt. It was all because of him. He’d let his guard down, been persuaded that all was well and this is what happened. The warlock fought against the magic that held him in check but could not break it; the strength of the sorcerer’s evil power was too great for him; it suffocated his magic and stifled his ability.

And Arthur’s screams were heartrending, tearing into his soul and ripping it apart. Merlin could not concentrate on battling for his freedom whilst Arthur’s cries of pain assaulted his ears, distracting him and stupefying him.

Arawan used his magic well, inflicting intense pain on the Prince and Merlin could only beg, plead for it to stop. And after what seemed to be a lifetime it did stop and Arawan was asking him what he wanted him to do. There was no hesitation, no decision that needed to be made. Merlin merely nodded and knew it would be his turn now. He knew that this would make the anguish stop for Arthur and this was his destiny. He mattered little; it was Arthur who needed to survive, to be free of pain and hurt. Raising his head Merlin sought Arthur’s eyes and tried to convey his acceptance of the situation to him. Tried to let the Prince know he was happy to yield to the punishment if it meant relief for Arthur. Their predicament was his doing and this was his penance.

But Merlin had a plan – not a hopeful one, rather a plan born out of desperation and despair – but a plan nonetheless.

As Arawan approached Merlin waited. He knew that he needed to antagonise Arawan; that he had to make him use all his power. Then maybe, just maybe, he would not have the strength to also sustain the spells holding Arthur and the unconscious knights. If he could distract Arawan, then perhaps the others could escape. Merlin hoped his magic would enable him survive and bear the pain long enough for the others to break free and go for help. However Merlin was realistic enough to realise that he stood little chance of surviving for long, but what of it? His friends, the knights, would be free and Arthur would be safe. He could make up for his failure to heed the warnings and leave Camelot. He could ensure Arthur lived. It was his calling and his purpose to serve Arthur until the end.

Merlin lifted his head high and looked Arawan in the face, smiled and spoke. 

“You know what I am. You cannot break me. Use all your skills and I will not shatter. I have beaten you twice, and will do so again. You are nothing, just a broken down old man.”

It was as if a damn had burst and hatred had flooded the land. If Arawan had been demented before he was now turned into a raging, maelstrom of loathing and malignancy. He no longer wanted to torment the boy for hours, he wanted him dead now, destroyed by pain and torture. How dare the insignificant warlock believe he could beat him? He had been a god and he was still the most powerful magical being in the human world. It had been circumstances and other people’s failings that had let the puny human stop him before but now he had the fool totally in his power and Arawan wanted him dead. Immediately. Arawan needed to kill him; and kill him in such a way as the anguish would be unheard of, torment never before felt in this world. First Merlin would suffer and then his Prince. No more waiting and no more playing; it would be their end now.

Arawan strode forward and with an inhuman hiss he placed both hands on Merlin’s forehead and at once the young warlock was cast down into a seemingly endless vortex of misery. Merlin felt his body being lashed as with a whip; his mind crack open and his soul rip apart. But he did not give up; he fought with everything he had. He called upon every ounce of resistance and magic he could find within himself and he did not die. Not yet.

Almost deranged with pain a small part of Merlin’s mind was still with his Prince; not even a mortal wound could keep him from making sure Arthur got free. As he felt Arawan move more magic into the battle to kill him, Merlin could see that the knights were stirring and Arthur had fallen to the ground. As he’d hoped Arawan had not got the power to continue all the spells. They had their chance now and they could flee.

But that was all he could see before he closed his eyes; he needed all his concentration and fortitude to survive just long enough. Merlin shut out the world and could only feel torment and the approach of death. And he welcomed it for it meant a free and happy Arthur ruling Camelot in its golden age.

But it was not enough. He needed one more look at his friends before he died and Merlin opened his eyes expecting to see the welcome sight of the five men escaping. But, oh God! The horror of what he saw. Arthur and his friends were moving as he’d hoped; but not away towards freedom but forwards, swords drawn, heading straight for Arawan. 

Merlin tried to scream at them, desperate for them to run, to leave him but he could not articulate the words, for the agony had returned and it was too great, as was the despair. Why hadn’t they taken the chance he had given them? Why were they attacking? Did they really think they could succeed?

A new wave of pain hit him and he pulled his attention back to Arawan. One last small hope remained. Perhaps if he could keep Arawan’s total attention on him the attack might work. Summoning his strength Merlin lifted his head again and stared straight at his torturer.

“You will fail” he stuttered, his voice bent and shattered but still so defiant “Your time has passed and Camelot’s is to come. I will defeat...”

But he could not carry on, as the intensity of the anguish again increased. Arawan became more crazed, driven to a frenzy by the warlocks words. 

Arawan’s mania was boundless in its intensity and vehemence but the madman was also confused beyond understanding. Why would Merlin not die? What tied this frail looking human to this world? Arawan reached into himself and pulled all his magic to the battle; he would beat this worm, this servant. With a fervour and ferociousness that was apocalyptic he attacked the youth; not noticing his other spells had lapsed and that even now Arthur and the knights were rushing him, swords raised and ready to attack. So intent on inflicting as much suffering on the boy as possible Arawan no longer had any concept of what was happening around him. 

Beginning to break under the new surge of magic, Merlin began to finally succumb to the everlasting pain. But he knew that Arthur would succeed, Arawan would never hear him approach and the Prince and his knights would kill the sorcerer at last.

But Merlin had forgotten the hound. The mangy cur had lost much as his Master had fallen, yet still followed Arawan with deranged loyalty and still had a craving for the taste for human flesh. No longer an all powerful Hell Hound but still rabid and frenzied when its Master was threatened, it had seen the silent attack and had reacted at once.

With a growl and a snarl, it leapt towards Arthur with a killer’s passion and clenched its jaws around his left arm. Its depraved fangs bit through his chain mail and sank sickeningly into the flesh below. Arthur could not stop the scream of pain that flew from his mouth as he stabbed at the hound with his sword. The blade sliced the devil in half and with a final angry yelp; it fell dead at Arthur’s feet.

But the noise had alerted Arawan and he’d turned to see the Prince and the knights attacking. At once he recollected himself enough to lower the amount of power he was using on Merlin and instead used it to attack them. The five brave men were flung backwards to the ground with a sickening thud and began to roll around in mortal pain.

“You were wrong, so wrong, Boy” Arawan triumphed “It is you who will lose.”

Merlin saw everything and knew at once that all was lost and that everyone he had hoped to save would die.  
XXX

Looking on, the three shadowy figures, hidden in the dark recesses of the forest, giggled with joy. They had watched and waited for many months and at last they were ready for the final calling.

“Now is the time, my sisters. Now we can claim the warlock’s soul and his power. He is close to death. Broken and defeated, he will have no strength to fight us.” 

The hideous Cyhyraeth cackled as she and her detestable siblings watched the scene before them. 

“Lets us go and claim our prize; magic unparalleled and a soul as old as time. Lets us call his name and reap our harvest”

XXX


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30  
Still holding Merlin aloft Arawan came so close to him that their faces were nearly touching. The frenzied look in the lunatics eyes and the ooze of saliva escaping from the corner of his mouth showed just how far gone this once all powerful being was. He put his mouth up to Merlin’s ear and spoke quietly.

“You will watch them all burn in hell fire, boy. You will watch them all die because of your insolence and vanity. As each of their bodies blisters and melts, as each of their agonised cries reach out to the sky, know that it is you who caused this. You should have died, boy. You should have given in to me. Now they will perish and then you will follow and may their benighted souls haunt you for all eternity.”

Arawan grabbed Merlin by his bloody and bruised arm and dragged him closer to the pain wracked bodies on the clearing floor. With a flick of his hand he threw the youth to the ground and Merlin lay there, unable to move or even to think straight. Pointing up to the sky Arawan howled out loudly.

“Losgi eu cnawd a'u heneidiau forver.”

And from his hand flew a blazing flame of orange and red, twisting and curling, rushing straight towards the helpless men convulsing before him.

Merlin howled.

And in that howl he unleashed someone buried deep inside of him. Someone who had remained out of his reach until desperation was at its highest. Emrys answered Merlin’s howled plea. The young warlock could not as yet call upon this someone at will; he did not have the skill. But once before, in a moment of greatest need, the Foretold Emrys had come and had filled the boy with his skills and his omnipotent magic. And now, again, he had returned.

Overpowering magic entered every pore and atom of Merlin’s body as he became who he was destined to be. The immortal Warlock rose up the broken body of the battered servant and stood tall and proud, ready to do battle.

With a flash of golden eyes Emrys smothered the living flames as they licked the clothes of the now unconscious knights and Prince. The burning fingers flickered brightly one last time and then died.

Emrys’ eyes flashed once more and a blue haze of brilliant light surrounded the men lying on the floor. It was not the small defensive shield of an untrained warlock but a wide, all-encompassing protective covering that could not be breached by any living sorcerer. At the same time as safeguarding his friends Emrys turned his attention to the aggressor. He held out his arm, almost casually, and pointed at Arawan, who found himself unable to move with shock.

“You have had many chances to walk away; to leave us in peace and you have not taken them. Merlin would have given you one more chance now, one more offer of mercy and redemption. I make no such offer. I am Emrys and you have awoken my wrath. You have attempted to kill those I love and those to whom I have sworn eternal faith and protection. There can be no clemency for you.”

Arawan flinched as he heard the name Emrys, for even he had heard of the prophesied Lord of Magic; but in his vanity, conceit and delusion all he felt was joy. As the Warlock spoke all he could think was here was the reason why the boy had been able to best him. But now he had learned the truth, Arawan knew he could beat this so called master of magic.

His heart soared as he concentrated all of his remaining mortal power into one final incantation.

'Dioddef ac yn marw ac yn dychwelyd i uffern. '

But even as he spoke and the flash of magic flew from his finger tips Emrys reached out with his power and captured the spell in a web of light, swirling it into a ball and holding it aloft, high in the air above them both.

Smiling a slightly sinister smile Emrys quietly spoke.

“Is that the best a once powerful God can do? Is this pitiful spell what Merlin and Arthur have reduced you to?”

Arawan screamed in rage and fury, reaching for his magic, throwing spell after spell at the figure in front of him but to no avail. All his spells were caught and held captive by the cold, severe figure before him.

“Make what peace you can Arawan for it is time for this to end”

Emrys turned slightly away from the frantic figure before him. He took no joy in what he had to do but he knew it was the only option to protect all he had vowed to serve. With a wave of his arm all the spells he had gathered above him were joined together in a vast, swirling golden ball of light in the sky. Lightning flashes of bright vibrant colours flew across the interior of the sphere. All the evil and murderous intents held within it combined together to form a spell so strong it could only be held in check by the Warlock known as Emrys; and even by him only for a short while.

Emrys looked straight at the face of the man who had caused so much pain and suffering and nodded once and raised his hand...

A burst of blinding light flew across the clearing in front of the Warlock and contained within it were the ugliest crones he had ever seen. He knew at once who they were and what they wanted. They were the ancient Cyhyraeth and they had come to claim his life and soul. And not even his great power could gainsay their third call.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Translation - Losgi eu cnawd a'u heneidiau forver – Burn their bodies and their souls forever. Welsh.  
> Translation - Dioddef ac yn marw ac yn dychwelyd i uffern – Suffer and die and return to Hell. Welsh.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31  
The Cyhyraeth had watched from the shadows and were just about to appear before the defeated boy when they had seen the change occur. They had seen the youth become more powerful, had witnessed his strength and his magic and they were entranced. Oh, they had imagined how they would envelope and absorb all the young warlocks talents but now...now they realised they had a chance to take the skills of the master not the student. They could reap Emrys and his eternal magic.

Merlin had taken the next step, had accessed all his gifts and become Emrys. If they could call him now then they could gather this increased bounty and they would feast well on it.

So they waited, waited until the Warlock had reached his full power, when he was on the edge of killing and so consumed in this that he would not have the chance to react and then they went to harvest their ancient tribute.

XXX

Emrys had no time to fight, no chance to repel their call, in the brief moment between seeing them appear and the three loathsome sisters placing their hands together and lifting them up to point at him.

No way to protect himself from the gathering, a reward to evil as old as time itself.

No plan to save neither himself nor his companions as they spoke with one foul voice and called him for the third and final time. 

“We call you for the fatal naming. We claim you as our prize. We take you and all that you have been, all that you are and all that you would have been. You are ours. We name and claim you MERLIN.” The sisters shrieked and cackled with laughter as they yelled their final calling.

But it was wrong; their calling did not make the Warlock collapse and die as it had done to countless others. Instead the spell they had screamed rebounded on them, felling them and causing the sisters to clasp their frightful heads in pain. They did not understand; but the Warlock Emrys suddenly did.

“You are fools. I am not Merlin, I am Emrys. You have named me wrongly and as such you bring down the ancient curse upon your own heads. You must die by my hands, your last victim must end your wicked ways and I am happy to do it.”

The sisters screeched as they realised their fatal error. They had seen the young boy being overcome by the skilled Warlock but had not thought of the implications of such a possession. In their haste and their greed they had seen only the unskilled yet greatly talented boy Merlin standing in the glade. They had not understood the events that had taken place; that Emrys now resided in the boy’s frail form and he was no longer Merlin. They had called the wrong name and they must pay the price.

Summoning down the cloud of magic, still brilliant and thrilling in the air above, Emrys cast a spell so powerful onto the three Cyhyraeth that they at once shrivelled up to husks of themselves and with a final shriek of unholy despair turned to dust and blew away in the wind. Nothing remained of them and the world of ancient magic sighed as another evil was ended.

Emrys dropped his outstretched arm and groaned with exhaustion. Holding all the spells together and then delivering them with enough strength to destroy three such ancient and malicious magical beings had nearly exhausted even his great powers. Emrys lowered his guard, took a step back and allowed Merlin back in control. His immense power retreated, out of reach, but there until needed again. Or until the time that Merlin truly matured and became that which was destined. Until then the great Warlock needed rest and Merlin was himself once more.

Breathing deeply Merlin closed his eyes and fell to the ground, weak and shivering as the last vestiges of Emrys power left him. It had been so strange, seeing all and doing all yet not being fully himself. If he was frank the sheer power and skill that this part of him possessed scared him slightly and he was glad that he did not yet have to fully become such a man. 

Barely able to move Merlin lay where he was for a few moments. The torture he’d endured and the magic he’d used had caught up with him and he felt exhausted, in pain and drained. But then he remembered his friends and he struggled to get up, his physical and mental state was not important, he had to help Arthur.

Pain suddenly filled Merlin’s whole being as the forgotten figure of Arawan hit him with a spell that blew him off his feet and onto the ground again. Cursing himself for having overlooked him and shaken deeply by the magical blow Merlin struggled to stand but was once more hit with a spell. Deep weariness filled him as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and came face to face with a snarling, deranged maniac. 

Arawan grabbed for Merlin’s chest and with the strength of a demented psychotic tore through his flesh, breaking two ribs in a fury to reach the boys heart and pluck it out. Merlin had nothing left to fight with and could only cry out feebily and try with ever weakening hands to pull the madman off him. But it was too much; everytime he had thought he was safe he’d been wrong and as he felt the hand crushing him he gave in to the blackness and yielded to the peace of nothingness.

XXX

Arthur groaned quietly to himself and tried to move but pain ripped through his arm and his head. Momentarily confused he glanced to his left where he saw his knights groaning and awakening and then down to his arm where he saw the vicious bite marks. In a rush it all returned to him, the torture; Merlin’s sacrifice so they could be free; the attempt to attack and its failure. Arthur shuddered as he felt again the excruciating grip of the hound’s teeth on his arm and then the flames and after that...nothing. Arthur raised himself up and, looking at Gwaine, he made to ask if the knight understood what had happened...

But his words were interrupted before he began. He watched in silence as Gwaine’s expression move from confusion to complete horror as the knight saw something happening over Arthur’s shoulder. At that exact moment Arthur heard a small, hopeless whimper of pain and knew at once it was Merlin.

Merlin. Merlin in the hands of that insane lunatic still, being tortured in order to protect him. Arthur’s anger grew even before he had turned fully to witness the awful sight before him. 

Arawan with his hang clawing at Merlin’s chest; the boy limp and pale and the blood. Lord, the blood. Even to someone as battle hardened as Arthur the blood was a sight he would not forget in a long time, Merlin’s blood. Given up to defend his Prince and his friend.

Arthur felt such a rage within himself that all other concerns were forgotten. He flew over the distance between himself and the vile torturer without thinking. There could be no delay, no mercy and no clemency. His vision was obscured by blood, his actions ordered by blood and his fury only satisfied by blood. 

Arthur reached Arawan in seconds and tore his evil, misery soaked hands out of the boy’s chest. The Prince took his knife and stabbed once, twice, countless times as he took out his fury on the object of his hatred. Looking the man in the eyes as he did so, all Arthur could see was venom and enmity. Arthur recognised his own expression reflected back at him and he stopped, all anger spent and useless. He held Arawan in his arms for a moment as the embittered mortal life drained out of the broken mortal remains. He watched as the light of madness and contempt left Arawan’s eyes, to be replaced by a fear so deep it gave Arthur pause. For at the end even this creature feared the judgement of the ancients that awaited him. Whatever the punishment they considered mete, Arthur knew it would never make up for the sorrow and the lamentation Arawan had wrought here in the realm of men. 

Then the light went and Arawan was left alone in eternity of mortal death to face his doom.

Dropping the cursed body, Arthur turned once more towards the begrimed form lying inert on the ground. He knelt there and reached out a hand towards the boy, hushing the small murmours of pain with a gentle touch. It hardly seemed fair that once again Merlin had offered up so much to save him and all he could proffer was a hand to comfort and a few hushed words of friendship. Yet they seemed enough, for on hearing his voice and feeling his touch the boy’s groans stilled and he gave a slight sigh.

“Arthur...am sorry...should have left...thank you.” Merlin whispered, the words distressingly fractured as they left his bruised and bloody lips. “Is...gone? Did you kill...?”

Arthur pulled the boy up and rested his head on his lap. Merlin was so light yet Arthur felt the burden he carried with him and the Prince was humbled by the loyalty of the boy. And irritated by the lack of self-concern and the excess of selflessness. And of course, Arthur being Arthur, it was the irritation that he decided to show.

“Merlin, you have to stop doing this. I’m not sure how many more times my heart can deal with thinking you’ve got yourself killed for me. Seriously, I am Prince; I can deal with these situations. It’s getting embarrassing, you trying to throw your life away and me being saved by my Manservant. Honestly, people will begin to doubt my abilities as a knight and a leader if you carry on like this!” 

“I’ll never doubt...once and future...our destiny...clotploe” Merlin replied faintly, a mixture of affection, annoyance and belief showing beneath his battered features. “...never listened before, won’t listen now...with you...or die for you.”

Arthur pulled the youth closer to him and held tightly as Merlin slid into unconsciousness, safe together.

“Idiot. Girl. Fool. Friend.” Arthur whispered to the boy as the knights warily approached. “I’d have it no other way.”

XXX


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Merlin sighed as he stared at the face of the Prince as Arthur slept, slumped down in the small uncomfortable chair beside Merlin’s bed. 

They had been back a week now and Arthur had hardly left his side and to be frank it was as annoying as hell. Admittedly for the first 2 days Merlin had barely noticed the constant presence as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Then over the next couple of days Merlin had to admit it had felt reassuring to know Arthur had been there whenever he had opened his eyes. Merlin had been able to relax, to concentrate on fighting the fever and the pain that had overtaken his body. He knew Arthur was safe if he was with him.

But now he was well again - and that was the most annoying thing. No-one believed him; they were mollycoddling him and it was driving him mad. Every time he tried to get up either Berwin, Gaius or Arthur was on hand to push him back down into the bed and force him to take yet another of those disgusting potions. Why couldn’t they get it through there stubborn heads that he felt better now than he had for months? Well, okay his body was still covered in cuts and bruises and the wound on his chest hurt whenever he tried to do something outlandish like stand up or sit down. Not to mention the ribs, they were mending slowly, but could still make their presence known. 

But that was by the by, just physical pain and he’d survived a lot of that over the years. No, it was his mind and his soul that were better. He had not felt so free from confusion, depression and deep seated debilitation for months. With Arawan’s death had come a lightness, an end of the crushing bleakness that had pervaded his very being since the death of Niamh. He was free and Arthur was safe. The sacrifices everyone had made had been so very hard but they had achieved their aims. Camelot and its future King had survived and the unification of Albion and the return of magic was one step further.

Of course Merlin still grieved for all that had been lost and all that others had given. The guilt and culpability he felt for his decisions would never truly leave but at least now they no longer crushed his very core. They were cares and woes that he could keep locked up within him and never show. They were the shadows that sometimes could be seen behind his lop sided grin and reflected in the bluest depths of his eyes. But these aches were part of the price he paid willingly to fulfil his destiny; the burden he carried along with his hope. 

He would never lose these feelings and he was glad. Having experienced the total power and ruthlessness of Emrys in full Merlin knew that it was these emotions that kept him human. It was this grief and morality that would allow him, Merlin, to retain some control over the other part of himself. Without it Merlin was secretly afraid of what Emrys would do in order to achieve his aims.

It was the sense of pessimism and pointlessness that Merlin felt had been lifted and he was glad. Arawan had been weighing down on him for so long without his knowledge and now he was gone. 

Arthur stirred in his sleep and muttered something. Merlin strained his ears to try and catch what the Prince sad but was unable to hear. Watching his friend’s face Merlin frowned a little. It was obvious that Arthur was having a nightmare and Merlin sympathised. He remembered his dreams after they had last encountered Arawan and he would not wish them on anyone. Merlin was not sure why they had not returned this time but he was immensely grateful. However judging by Arthur’s increasingly jerky and troubled movements the Crown Prince was not so lucky.

Merlin was about to wake him when Arthur suddenly shot bolt upright and yelled out.

“Merlin, watch out.”

Reacting with uncharacteristic speed and efficiency Merlin threw himself off the bed and turned to face the threat, arm raised, ready to use magic if necessary against whatever foe approached.

But there was nothing.

Merlin faced Arthur who was staring wildly into the middle distance and he realised that Arthur’s warning had just been the end of the nightmare and that they were safe. He also suddenly realised that throwing yourself off a bed onto a hard stone floor when you had not really recovered from numerous injuries was an incredibly stupid idea. 

Clasping his chest with his hand Merlin let lose a yelp of pain and curled up into a small ball, trying to recover his breath and his feeling of well being. The sound seemed to bring Arthur out of his reverie and instantly he was down on the floor and pulling Merlin back up onto the bed.

“See, I told you that you were not fit to get up you numbskull” he yelled at the grimacing boy perched, struggling for breath on the side of the hard bed. “What were you thinking of?”

“Me?” Merlin gasped “You were the one who screamed out a warning, I was just doing what you told me to do.”

“When did you ever do that?” demanded a reddening Prince. “Anyway I didn’t scream, it was a...um...a...” For a moment Arthur looked lost and alone and so much younger than his years. Merlin’s heart went out to him, he remembered so vividly the horror of the dreams he’d had.

“It’s okay Arthur. They will pass and until then I am here if you need to talk or just sit or even yell at someone.” Merlin touched Arthur on the shoulder and grinned slightly, his eyes full of friendship and understanding. “They are just reflections of things past and gone. We will replace them with visions of things to come.”

Arthur did not reply, he sat there, allowing Merlin to comfort him for a moment and then shook his head to clear his mind and stood up.

“Enough with the girliness Merlin. It’s time for another potion.” And he reached behind him and took down an evil looking purple concoction and presented it with a wicked smile to the suddenly distraught looking manservant.

“Do I have to Arthur? I told you I am feeling better.” Whined the lanky youth, gagging as Arthur pushed the foul smelling liquid nearer to his face. “If I promise faithfully to stay in bed all day will you just sneak it out of here and tell Gaius that I took it? Come on; do me a favour, please? Don’t you owe me that much?” Merlin begged with a grin on his face.

Arthur was grinning back at the boy and waving the medicine out in front of him. But instantly he heard the last part of the jokey plea from Merlin the grin disappeared and a look passed over his face that was hard to read.

“I owe you much more than that Merlin, more than I can say.” 

Here he paused, unable to put his emotions into words. He knew how much Merlin had been willing to sacrifice for him and how much he had given but he could not articulate his feelings; he just didn’t know how. So he did the next best thing.

With a wide smile he pocketed the obnoxious brew and turned to walk out.

“Consider this your reward then Merlin. But I expect you back at work within 2 days if you are so sure you are better. And I won’t tolerate any slacking. You are already completely useless as a servant so don’t think these so called injuries give you an excuse to do your job even worse.”

He stalked out the door but as it closed Merlin could have sworn he heard a quiet voice saying

“Thank you, my friend.”

It might have been his imagination but Merlin knew better and replied just loud enough to be heard.

“Always Arthur, always.”


	33. Epilogue

Chapter 33 – Epilogue

Merlin sat and looked at the small white stone. Engraved on it still was her name.

“Niamh”

But this time he did not sit there alone. Arthur sat beside him, both of them paying their respects together.

They had neither of them spoken out loud of their need to visit her grave again yet when they had left Camelot the day before on a hunting trip they both knew where they were really going. There was no need for discussion; it was something they both had to do.

Berwin had come with them as far as the village. He had been studying hard with Gaius and was now a talented and knowledgeable physician and had felt it was time to return to help his village. The three had parted a few hours ago, amidst much shaking of hands and heartfelt thanks; and not a little sadness. Merlin and the Prince were now alone.

They had been sitting quietly for about an hour now, both lost in their memories of the past and both thinking of the future. But then Arthur broke the silence.

“Merlin, there are very many things I do not understand about what happened between us, between you and Arawan. Things I saw and I heard; things that happened with no reason. I have waited for you to explain these to me but you have not spoken. So I am asking you. How did you defeat Arawan after you had been attacked by the Hell Hounds? Who was the Warlock Arawan threatened? Why were you the centre of the first attack? How did we both survive?”

Merlin stared at the small mound of Earth and gave no indication that he had even heard Arthur’s questions. 

But he had and he was facing a choice he had been expecting for weeks.

His outward appearance seemed calm and collected but inside his mind was whirling and his heart was dizzy. He knew what he wanted to say. He longed to be able to tell Arthur all his secrets, to unburden himself and seek forgiveness and understanding from his one true friend. In some ways it seemed to be the only choice, the obvious end to the events of the past year but something held him back. Some sense that now was not the time. Uther still reigned, Morgana was still missing and unmasked and Arthur was not yet ready. 

And Merlin had to admit he was not ready either. Not yet ready to take the risk, to chance it all. To test if their friendship was strong enough to withstand Uther’s anti-magic indoctrination and Arthur’s sense of loyalty to his Father.

No, it was not the time and though it made his heart break to continue to lie to Arthur, Merlin knew he had no choice.

“I don’t know Arthur” he replied, a false good humour in his voice “I guess it was just a mixture of luck; good and bad. Afterall he was quite mad you know.”

Looking up from the grave the two young men locked eyes and did not speak. Both knew there was more that needed to be said, but they knew that somehow this was not the time. And they silently prayed that when the time did come, that they could both live with what the other had to say.

Until then the two friends would continue to live and to mature, ready one day to face their joint destiny. Together they rose and walked away from the little grave and out of the shadow of death into the golden sunlight. 

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
